After the War
by WantedWild
Summary: With Erebor slowly being rebuilt, Thorin is under more pressure than ever. Will the presence of a dwarf maiden, one who defies every traditional notion of how a female dwarf should be, keep him together? Or will she break him?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

A dwarf dam's beauty was measured by a few narrow mindsets – was she plump? Short (compared to her male counterpart)? How did she dress? Was she stout but feminine in her dress? Red hair was preferred, but did she elegantly style her hair? Were her eyes blue? If the answer to all these questions was an affirmative, the dwarf dam was then labeled a great beauty among dwarves, and her hand was greatly coveted by those who wished to marry.

With such strict parameters of beauty, the sight of a dwarf woman that did not fit any of these "rules," but whose beauty could not be denied, quickly drew attention.

Dwarf women were scarce and had always been expected to wear beards amongst non-dwarves for their own safety.

So Canna expected the shocked reactions of those around her as she boldly strode into the newly reclaimed Erebor. She just did not expect the other reactions as well.

"Is she traveling alone? With no beard? And such clothes!"

"She is beautiful…unlike anything I ever seen…"

"Look at her! Is she even fully a dwarf? She's a mixed breed, I know it…"

"Ay, but still a beaut…"

"Looking like herself and traveling with no beard…who is she?"

"Wait! Is that – is that a sword I see? Mahal, she's a warrior!"

Canna pulled up the hood of her cloak and ignored the voices of those around her as she entered Erebor alongside the other newcomers. Every day, dwarves streamed into the great mountain, rejoicing in the death of the dragon and the success of Thorin Oakenshield and his company.

But Canna was not here for that. She had been called by an old friend, nothing more, nothing less.

All newcomers were first summoned to the Hall of Kings. The smooth golden floor echoed under their footsteps as the great hall was slowly filled. Finally, an herald appeared and shouted "King Thorin arrives!"  
The few that had sat down in fatigue scrambled to their feet as the king and his entourage appeared. Thorin stood in front of his throne and appeared to survey the newcomers, his gaze calculating.

He certainly was a handsome dwarf, tall and dark and brooding.

Canna kept her hood up and remained hidden by a pillar. She scanned his entourage, noting the two young dwarves on either side of the king. His nephews, Fili and Kili.

When her eyes landed on one particular dwarf amongst Thorin's men, a smile lit her face. She waited.

"I trust your journey here was not too difficult," Thorin began. His deep rumbling voice echoed in the golden hall. "Food and shelter will be provided for all of you. My wish is that you will all prosper here, and lend your skills and talents to the mountain in return. You are safe now. We will protect you."

A collective sigh rose up from the dwarves around her. Canna remained impassive.

"Before we all eat, one of my people will find all of you rooms that will become your home." On cue, two dwarves appeared and ushered the newcomers to an adjacent room. The new dwarves all bowed deeply to the king and left. The hall was suddenly empty, except for Thorin, his men, and Canna who remained hidden.

"So many of our people come back to us every day," one of the dwarves mused.

"Yes," was Thorin's reply.

As they all turned to leave, Canna quickly moved to action. "Oy, you sent a raven to me and asked me to come here, and I don't even get a greeting?" With her hood thrown off and a mischievous grin on her face, Canna strode forwards.

"Who are you?" Thorin demanded to know, before one of his entourage stepped forward with a wide smile.

"Canna!"

"Balin."

* * *

It was with great joy that Canna and Balin embraced each other. "My, lassie, look at you! A true warrior if I ever saw one."

Canna smiled. "Ever the flatterer, old one. Now tell me, why did you ask me to come?"

"Can an old dwarf not wish to see if his old friend's daughter is taking care of herself?" the white-bearded dwarf replied. "Now that you are here, there are a few I wish you to meet." With that, he maneuvered the young dwarf maiden to stand before Thorin. "Canna, I give you King Thorin, son of Thrain, Lord Under the Mountain."

Canna gave a slight bow, which caused Thorin's eyebrow to raise. "That is quite a title," said the girl, somewhat cheekily. She could not help it; the glare that seemed stuck to the king's face amused, rather than frightened, her.

"It was hard won," he grunted in reply, his glare even more piercing if possible.

Balin quickly intervened. "Canna is quite a swordswoman, Thorin. It is my thought that, with the need to train so many new warriors, and with all of us being so busy, she could be of some help."

A surprised Canna was about to inject her own opinion when Thorin exclaimed, "A maiden? Training our men? Look at her, Balin. I will not allow this!"

Canna bristled. She was well used to such an outlook, but it never ceased to enrage her. "King Under the Mountain," she spat. "Do not underestimate me, as many others have done before. They have all come to regret it, and you will too. This I swear."

Suddenly Thorin was towering over her. "Are you threatening me?"

"No," she repeated, unfazed as she stared up into his icy grey glare. "I'm promising you."

"Now, now, you two." Balin once again moved himself between the king and the dwarf woman, this time signaling to the other hereby forgotten dwarves to come forward. "Fili, Kili, this is my young friend, Canna."

With matching smiles, the two brothers swept forward, each grasping one of her pale hands and bestowing a kiss upon it. "My lady," Fili murmured with a winning smile.

Canna grinned. "Gallantry will get you nowhere, young princes. The pleasure is mine."

"And this is Bifur, Bofur, Oin, and Nori," Balin introduced, pointing to each dwarf who smiled and bowed. "They were all part of our original group."

"Indeed." Canna bowed once more. "A pleasure."

Thorin was still glaring at her; she could feel his gaze on her. _If he was a dragon, he could smote me with his glare alone_, Canna thought a bit wryly.

"Come," Balin said with a fond smile. "I will take it upon myself to find you housing. Follow me, now."

Canna smiled at the group of dwarves once more before hoisting her sword on her back once more and striding after the old dwarf. She could still feel a pair of eyes digging into the back of her head; she did not need to guess whose eyes it was.

* * *

**Disclaimer for the entire story: **

**Never throughout this story do Thorin, the original company of the "Hobbit," or any characters that appear in the original "Hobbit" or "Lord of the Rings" belong to me. **

**However, Canna is mine. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Thorin waited until Balin and the dwarf woman had left before facing his men. "Come; what's next?"

"Bombur wishes you to come down to the forges with him to survey his latest batch of armor," Bifur replied.

"And then you must talk with our new healers about supplies for the healing ward," Oin added. "Then there is dinner, which you _will_ attend, Thorin."

Thorin scoffed, but nodded. "Alright, I will head to the forges with Fili and Kili. The rest of you all, find some work to do until dinner." With that, the company disassembled and Thorin strode out of the Hall of Kings, his nephews in tow. When he was young, the Hall of Kings had been one of his favorite places, a symbol of the might of his people. Now the golden floor and newly remade wall from where Smaug had broken out served as a constant reminder of his downfall to dragon sickness.

_Never again_ had become his mental mantra. _Never again_.

His thoughts turned to Balin's companion, Canna. He was well aware of what made a dwarf maiden beautiful, but never had he met one like her. Her skin was pale like the moon, not rosy. Black hair like his own was not uncommon, but hers was not just thick, but glossy as a raven's, held together in one long braid and swung over one shoulder. Her features were chiseled and delicate. She was neither short nor round, but tall (for a dwarf) and toned. She was dressed in dark leather, a warrior's garb, and her eyes were a startling amber. She was everything that was uncommon and seemingly unlovely, and yet there was no denying her exotic beauty.

However, her bold disrespect towards him, along with Balin's claim that she could train the mountain's troops, made Thorin seethe at the mere memory of it. He would see them at dinner, he was sure, and with her sitting next to Balin, who sat next to him, he would have to make conversation with her.

He had enough troubles already.

Meanwhile, behind him, Fili and Kili were exchanging small grins. "That dwarf maiden is…different," Fili remarked casually.

"Ay." Kili heaved a sigh. "If I was not already promised to Tauriel, then…"

Thorin rolled his eyes. His descent into dragon sickness and subsequent near death at Azhog's hands had changed him; knowing that Tauriel had risked her own life to save Kili, he had finally granted his blessing for their union. Thranduil had been more reluctant, but the war for the mountain had inexplicably altered relationships between the dwarves and the woodland elves for the better. Tauriel and Kili were currently betrothed, on the condition that they wait a year before marrying.

In the meantime, Fili's grin turned thoughtful. "Truly she is quite unlike any dwarf maiden we have seen. Do you suppose she is of mixed breed?"

"Balin would know," Kili replied. "We can ask him later."

"Or we could just ask her," said Fili. "She seems like a bold girl."

"Uncle, why can she not train some of our new recruits?" Kili, the bolder of the two, questioned.

"Because, it is not done," Thorin grunted.

Kili and Fili exchanged incredulous glances. "But our mother wields an axe almost as well as you, Uncle! Times have changed; I have heard rumors that many dwarf dams today have been trained to wield weapons to protect themselves and their families. It is not so uncommon. And Balin trusts her, Uncle. Since when has Balin ever been wrong?"

"Enough!" The three were silent as they finally made it to the forges. There were now many dwarves working there, lead by Bombur.

"Ay, Thorin!" the fat dwarf yelled merrily as he made his way towards them. "Come and see!"

Thorin smiled as he followed Bombur; there would forever be a place in his heart for each of the souls that had accompanied him on the original quest; they were his family. Together, not by himself, would they lead Erebor to greatness; Thorin had learned his lesson on greed far too well.

Bombur's latest work consisted of new armor and weaponry for their burgeoning army; Smaug had destroyed much of the armory.

Thorin closely surveyed the new creations before giving his approval, citing new ideas for the next set. Fili, his heir, was also asked to examine the weapons and armor closely. Thorin had been worried that Fili would not be able to, or wish to, shoulder the burden of one day leading Erebor, but his sister's eldest son was proving to be a worthy heir to the throne.

"Come, we must make for the healers," Thorin announced after embracing Bombur one more time.

He had always hated the healing ward, even as he was trained in rudimentary healing as a young heir. Many of the dwarves that now streamed into Erebor had come injured or ailing, and it was his duty to see to them. The healing wing had been one of the first areas to be rebuilt since reclaiming the mountain.

The head healer was an old dwarf named Girin, who had traveled from the Blue Mountains to lend his knowledge and experience to the king.

"My lord," he said with as deep a bow as his age would allow him. "I trust you are well?"

"Indeed, Girin. Now tell me what you have need of." Thorin had never been fond of initial pleasantries; his days were too busy for such frivolities.

Girin quickly created a list of the healing supplies he was in need of, which Thorin promised to order as soon as possible. As he and his nephews were about to leave, Girin stopped them. "My lord, I would request a word with you privately, if I could."

After a moment, Thorin nodded and Kili and Fili respectfully left.

"What is it?" the king asked without preamble.

"My lord, your wound–"

"–Is fine, I assure you," Thorin huffed, instinctively moving his hand towards his abdomen. "Is that all?"

"Yes, my lord."

Thorin was striding out of the ward before the old dwarf could rise from his bow.

* * *

As he had guessed, Balin and Canna entered the hall together, laughing. Balin took his usual seat at Thorin's right, and coaxed a suddenly hesitant Canna to sit next to him. Thorin eyed the dwarf woman warily; she was no longer in her leather garb, but wore black breeches and a comfortable white shirt.

The thought, _Does she even own a dress or realize that she is a woman?_ crossed Thorin's mind.

Meanwhile, Canna appeared to be attracting much attention from the other dwarves in the hall who could see her. Some seemed enamored by her strange beauty, others perturbed by it. A good portion were curious about her clothing, others offended by it. But all wondered at her sitting at the high table, so close to the king.

Thorin inwardly rolled his eyes. Soon rumors would fly, he was sure. But neither he nor Canna were doing anything to encourage such thoughts. Indeed, the dwarf woman had given another of her cursory bows before almost completely ignoring the king. Her attention remained focus on Balin, Dwalin who had greeted her with a bone-crushing hug, and Fili and Kili.

When Canna was momentarily in deep conversation with his nephews as they regaled her with tales of their quest, Thorin took this opportunity to grab Balin's attention.

"How do you know this…woman?"

Balin smiled. "I knew her father, many years ago."

"And her mother?"

"Ay, I met her too. One of the most beautiful dwarf dams I ever saw, to be sure. Canna looks so much like her."

"So her mother and father were both dwarves?"

Balin's smile turned mildly reproachful at this. "Thorin, such thoughts do not become you. But yes, to answer your question. I have arranged for her to see the training rings tomorrow. It is already done," he added as Thorin opened his mouth to protest. "I recommend that you join us, so you can see her for yourself. Do not bind yourself to archaic notions, Thorin. Middle Earth is always changing, and we must change too if we are to survive."

Thorin did not reply, for lack of an argument. His gaze once again turned to the strange Canna. He decided that now may be the only time he had to speak with her at all.

"So," he began. Canna turned to him, clearly surprised by this initiative. "Where do you hail from?"

"Middle-Earth," she replied with a small smile. The others chuckled; Thorin did not.

"What she means," Balin added with a roll of his eyes, "is that she does not have a specific home. She travels extensively."

"A dwarf maiden, traveling with no home?" The words were out before Thorin could think, and he could see from the way Canna straightened and her wide look turned to a glare that he had once again offended her.

_Her eyes look like fire in her anger_, he noticed off-handedly. "Do you travel alone?"

If not for Balin, Canna was sure she would have thrown her plate of food at the king. "Yes, and I am still hale and hearty, so I would not get your beard in a twist so soon, King."

The manner in which she spat out his title wounded him like no spear could. "You would speak so to your king?"

"You are a king, but you are not my king. I only came here at the request of my friend. I am only staying temporarily, so the threat of banishing me from Erebor is rude but unnecessary. I respect you for your hardships and triumphs, Thorin, son of Thrain, but in turn I expect you to respect me for mine. Being king does not make me lesser than you. I have endured much, and I will not have my self worth sullied by anyone."

Thorin would have responded in a similar heated fashion had he not noticed the increased attention they were drawing. Breathing slowly, he managed to calm himself down enough to ignore her and focus on his plate.

Fili tried to break the tenseness that permeated the head table. "So Balin, Dwalin, is Canna really as good a warrior as she boasts?"

Dwalin guffawed. "Ay, even before I met her, she was a little heathen! But I hear you've had quite a few teachers since then, lassie."

"Ay, one of them being you," Canna responded with a fond smile.

"Indeed, but that sharp tongue of yours is quite a wicked weapon itself, lass," Balin added. "Careful with how you wield it; these days, words can be just as powerful as a sword, and just as deadly."

* * *

**Please review! It would mean the world to me. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Canna was still fuming as she made her way back to her room, alone.

_The nerve of that dwarf! _His pigheaded arguments infuriated the pale-skinned dwarf maiden to no end.

Was it really too much to expect the most powerful leader among dwarves to not look down on dwarf dams and their skills?

_Maybe if he could see my skill with sewing, he would change his views_, she thought with a sardonic smile.

The halls of Erebor were well-lit with torches, but there was no denying that the passages were maze-like. Canna found herself wishing she had paid more attention to her surroundings when she had walked with Balin. She had been one of the last to leave dinner, so only a few dwarves remained wandering the hallways. As tempting as it was, Canna refused to ask one of them for directions. She had survived orcs, goblins, wargs, and even disgruntled bees; she could find her way back to her room.

Thirty minutes later, Canna had found the forges, the healing wing, and had even entered the food hall for a second time. But her room remained elusive.

Patience was not a trait dwarves were well-known for. Canna was no exception.

"Curse this mountain and its makers!" she muttered angrily before entering a hallway that appeared different from the others she had gone down. A small sliver of hope grew in her chest.

This passageway appeared to lead to someplace high. Although Canna did not remember taking such a passage with Balin, she did not trust her memory or directional sense at the moment. So she continued to brave the stairways.

At last, the staircase gave way to a hallway, with doors lining each side. They appeared to be living quarters, and Canna excitedly walked down the hallway. She did remember her room having a small blue banner hanging from the door, and searched for that now.

Suddenly the door to her left opened, and a dwarf stepped out. Canna turned to apologize for her presence, but when she saw him they both froze.

He appeared to recover first. "Good eve."

"Good eve…King Thorin."

* * *

"Are you lost?"

"No!" she protested vehemently. A small voice inside of her whispered that no one would know the halls of Erebor better than the king himself. Canna promised to skewer that voice, and it fell silent.

That ever-present grey glare was upon her again, but she refused to be baited into a war of stares with him. His next question took her by surprise. "Do you own dresses at all?"

Her eyes swung up to meet his in surprise. Only then did she take in his clothing – he was no longer wearing the armor and heavy cloak that befitted his position, but breeches and a thin shirt that was very similar to what she was currently wearing.

Canna did her very best to keep from flushing, and bravely met his gaze, in which she could detect the slightest smugness.

_I'll show him_. "I have a very few; which I only wear when the circumstance absolutely requires it. There's not much room in my pack for such frivolous clothing when I spend most of my time fighting orcs and goblins, is there, King?"

A myriad of emotions flitted across his face as Canna spoke, but as she expected, he finally settled on anger.

"Perhaps in your…escapades, there is no need for you to dress as a _woman_. But here, in my mountain, you are expected to dress suitably for dinner."

Canna scoffed in outrage and placed her hands on her hips, shoulders squared. For all intents and purposes, she was now at war with the king. "I cannot help but notice that you are the only one that noticed and concerned yourself with such things!"

Thorin rolled his eyes and gazed down at her. "You, you were never unnoticed. Did you really not see? Every dwarf watched you, men and women. _No one_ can help but notice you. Look at you."

His voice had lowered and he took a step closer to her, which made the hairs on Canna's neck stand on end. Pulling herself to her full height, which was still shorter than Thorin's, she growled, "Are you merely insulting me, or threatening me?"

"I'm promising you." Having her words from their first meeting thrown back at her caught Canna off guard, which only served to fuel her anger.

"_Good eve_, King," she hissed before turning back to the staircase she had come from.

"I believe your rooms are situated in the quarters near the library. Bottom of this passageway, then to your right." With that, the king turned and went back into his quarters, the door shutting behind him.

As Canna walked down the staircase, she found herself even angrier with Thorin Oakenshield. _How dare he make me indebted to him!_

It was this thought that echoed in her dreams as she fell asleep in her own bed, in her own room, at last.

* * *

At dawn the next morning, Canna was surprised to find not only Balin, but also Fili and Kili, waiting to escort her to the training grounds.

"Forgive me, just one more minute," she told them apologetically before quickly throwing her long black hair into its usual thick braid and strapping her weapons on.

The walk to the arena was not nearly as long with company to entertain her. Still, Canna carefully noted the passages they took this time.

"Canna, where did you journey to here from?" Kili enquired.

"From Beorn's territory, near the edge of Mirkwood."

"So far!" Fili exclaimed. "Were you attacked on your journey here?"

"More spiders than I expected, but with most of the Woodland elves returning from the war at that time, it was to be expected. Otherwise, not at all. You did the realms a great favor by destroying Smaug and Azhog the Defiler."

Her words were met with kind smiles from her companions.

"Now," she said briskly. "Tell me about your new army. How many, of what ages, and how do you plan to arrange them?"

Fili and Balin quickly filled her in on the details as they arrived at the training grounds. These grounds were deeper into the mountain, but were far more vast than what Canna had been expecting.

"Ay, Thorin commanded that the training grounds be expanded. We did what we could in such little time, but it has come out nicely," Balin informed her.

There were multiple arenas, each with specific purposes. The one closest to her was filled with about thirty young dwarves in light garb, carrying wooden weapons and looking thoroughly disgruntled about it.

Canna grinned. "Well, anything in particular I should know about this lot?"

"No, lassie. Just…don't go easy on them."

"Ay." Canna smiled before marching over to her new subordinates. "Oy, you lot! Form a rank! Six to a row, move!"

For a full minute the young men stopped and stared at Canna, both at her exotic beauty and the fact that she was their captain. Canna waited, and when she could wait no more, calmly walked towards the closest of the dwarves, swung out one of her swords, and cleanly cut off a lock of his hair.

There were shouts of surprise and outrage from the group, but Canna shushed them with a roar. "Next time, it will be your beards." As one, they all moved a step away from her; to threaten a dwarf's beard was akin to threatening their honor.

"Now, I want rows."

After a bit of scrambling, it was done. The next few minutes were spent teaching them how to carry themselves, their weapons, and march as one. The threat of losing their beards increased their focus, and within two hours they had done well enough that Canna allowed them a short rest.

As they were gulping down water, one of them approached her. "Begging your pardon, my lady…"

"Canna."

"Canna, yes. Well, we were all wondering, if you, for our sakes, would put on your beard?"

Canna's amber gaze went from open to icy in a second. "Why?"

"Because, well…it would be easier for us, my l – Canna, if you would."

"Why?"

The young lad began to squirm under her icy tone and gaze. "I, well…it's not right, fighting with a dwarf dam. For our sakes, please, miss."

_Maybe the air in this mountain is making the men more stupid than usual_. "No, I won't, young one. I have fought and killed far more orcs than you would imagine, to have to dress myself up just because you lot can't keep your heads straight! Now, what I will do is spar with anyone here. If even one of you lot can defeat me, I will grant whatever it is you wish. Is that suitable?"

She was aware that many eyes were on her and her men. If she could not convince the king that she was capable, she could at least convince this small portion of Erebor's growing population.

The largest and boldest of her group stepped forward, a large wooden sword in his hands. Canna exchanged her steel for a wooden one as well before facing her new opponent. She held her sword in a loose, almost clumsy position, and smiled at him disarmingly.

With a mighty roar the dwarf came towards her, sword singing. Canna neatly sidestepped and hit him behind the knees, sending her burly opponent to the ground, face hitting the dirt.

Canna ignored the laughter and held out a hand to help the young dwarf to his feet. He ignored her hand, but did give her a small bow before retreating.

Twenty-nine more times, Canna faced her subordinates. Twenty-nine times did they gain a little more respect for her.

"Well!" She turned to face her recently defeated men, to find them all standing in rank, six in a row, arms straight.

Canna smiled. "I think we've taken enough for the first day. I expect to see you here, in rank, tomorrow at dawn. Good work today. Be off with you."

As her men cleared out of the arena, she was approached by Fili, Kili, Balin, and Dwalin.

"How long have you been here?" she addressed Dwalin with a grin.

"Oy, just in time to see you send the last two pigs to the ground. You earned their respect today, lass."

Canna's smile turned to a frown. "Aye, if only I didn't have to earn it. Especially in such a manner. They're all good lads."

"You did what was necessary," Balin reasoned, smiling kindly. "Now go and clean yourself up; you are my guest, and I will not have you forgetting to feed yourself."

Canna laughed and swung towards the entrance, only to find herself in a sadly familiar position – facing the king of the mountain.

His gaze was pinning her more than a boulder ever could. Canna wanted to ask if he had seen her, how much he had seen, if he still thought she could not train these men. Did he respect her even a little bit more?

She meant to ask him all these. Instead, the words, "I'm good, aren't I?" slipped out of her mouth.

Balin grabbed her hand and pulled her past Thorin before he could reply.

On their way to her room, Canna wondered how far she could push the king before he pushed back. It was in her nature to confront people, to aggressively defend her beliefs.

But could she really expect one such as herself to change the beliefs of King Thorin, son of Thrain, Lord Under the Mountain?

* * *

**Thank you so much for those reviews! They really motivated me to finish this chapter early. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

She was smart; Thorin would give her that much. He had not planned to watch the outspoken dwarf maiden with her recruits at all; at least, not until she had suddenly appeared in front of his rooms, confused and embarrassed and even more lovely than he thought possible.

He did not know why he had suddenly felt the need to impress her conspicuousness to her, to force her to note her own beauty. He had always noticed dwarf dams, but had never done more than note their presence and connections.

And then, to his surprise, Canna did not take his words as an overture or even as a compliment, but as an insult, nay, a threat! Thorin would have thought she was being coy, if not for the fire in her eyes. It had almost made him laugh.

He had only gone to the training grounds the next morning to see if she could make him laugh again. She did not.

Watching Canna quickly defeat each recruit within a minute, with no flair or glibness, he felt the first small spark of respect grudgingly take hold of him.

Of course, she ruined that when she said, "I'm good, aren't I?"

_Balin was wise to take her away quickly_. And Fili and Kili had quickly followed after them. Dwalin strode up to him. "Well, Thorin? How long were you watching?"

"Long enough."

"And?"

"She is…adequate. For now."

Dwalin chuckled and rolled his eyes, slapping the king's shoulder affectionately. "Ay, Thorin, you'll never concede, will you? I trained her myself, at one time. She's a good lass."

Balin had returned, without Canna. "Thorin, don't forget that Dain wishes to speak with you today. He will arrive here from the Iron Hills soon."

"Have rooms been readied for him and his company?" Thorin inquired.

"Yes, yes."

"What do you suppose he's coming for?" asked Dwalin.

Balin shrugged. "Perhaps he's here to check on what few of his men are left in the healing wing. They are all healed well enough now to return to their home."

"Is that all?" Thorin was suspicious.

With a sigh, the white-bearded dwarf shook his head. "These are only guesses on my part, Thorin. But I should tell you that there has been talk of strengthening the connection between Erebor and the Iron Hills."

Dwalin scoffed. "Strengthening the bond? Dain is our king's cousin, and he risked himself for our sakes! You do not get a stronger bond than that!"

"Yes, you do," Thorin rumbled, "by marriage."

The three friends remained silent until Thorin spun around and left the training grounds. With a look at his brother, Balin turned and followed his king.

* * *

Dain and his entourage arrived in time for the midday meal. Dain and Thorin fondly embraced each other on site – politics aside, they were kin first, as well as comrades in battle.

"What brings you here, cousin?" said Thorin.

"Do I really need a reason to come see my cousin?" was his loud reply. Everything Dain did was loud. It was as endearing as it was infuriating at times.

With their added guests, the midday meal was even more boisterous than normal. While Balin took his usual seat, Canna did not sit with him. In fact, as Thorin subtly searched the crowd for a familiar pale face and glossy black hair, he did not see Canna anywhere. He thought to question Fili and Kili, but Dain sat between them, and after his conversation with Balin and Dwalin, he did not want to bring up any dwarf maiden, even an inconsequential one.

Dain and Thorin spoke of many things at the midday meal, but nothing that could indicate Dain's real reason for traveling to Erebor.

So when the meal was finished, and Balin suggested they speak in Thorin's private quarters, all were surprised when Dain suggested that they speak in the library instead.

_Surely he is not here to read_, Thorin thought with a smile.

Dain and Thorin headed the group. Thorin looked behind him for a quick head count, only to see Kili and Fili whispering to themselves and looking uneasy. Seeing his gaze on them, they suddenly volunteered to travel ahead of the group and clear the library of people.

"Oy, that ain't necessary, ladies!" Dain bellowed merrily. "They'll clear out fast enough when they see our pretty faces, won't they?"

Everyone laughed, but Kili and Fili only fidgeted more. Thorin questioned them with his eyes. Kili moved forward to whisper something in his ear, but before he could, Dain had pulled Thorin into a brotherly side embrace. Whatever Kili and Fili had to say was lost. Thorin squashed the burgeoning feeling of uneasiness.

At least they reached the library. Some of it had been destroyed in fire, but a miraculously large portion of it remained untouched, preserving the history of Erebor. Thorin threw open the large doors and welcomed his guests inside.

The torches were already lit, bathing the library in light. Thorin led the company deeper into the library and was just telling them to sit in nearby chairs when out of the corner of his eye he potted a flash of pale skin. There, standing in the corner of the library and contentedly reading a book, was Canna.

_This maiden will be the death of me_. "I want the library cleared of all visitors!" Thorin roared.

Apparently ignorant of their presence, Canna's amber eyes jolted to his, before quickly surveying his company. Her eyes widened at the sight of Dain before she ducked her head and placed the book on the shelf and walked past them, to the library's entrance.

"Forgive me," she murmured with a soft smile to the company, before slipping out.

It seemed that the entire company were held breathless in her presence, for a minute after she had left, there was still silence.

As expected, Dain was the first to regain his voice. "That dam…who is she?"

"Canna, the daughter of an old friend of mine," Balin responded. "She's visiting Erebor as my guest."

"Daughter, eh? Is her father anyone I'd know?"

"I doubt it, my lord," the old dwarf said with a diplomatic smile. "Now, on to–"

"Are you sure she's a dwarf, and not some mixed breed?" Dain wondered.

"She is no mixed breed." Thorin was surprised to find that these were his words, and reflected on the irritation he felt. Had he not also asked the same question once? Perhaps that was why.

"Anyways," he continued irascibly, "she is of no consequence. Tell me why you have come all this way."

Dain stood to his feet. "Well, first I came to take back my men! I hear they are well healed."

"Yes, my lord, all except one, who will need to stay a bit longer," said Balin. "Is that all?"

"Of course it isn't!" Dain walked closer to where Thorin stood. "Thorin, now may not be the time for this, but soon you must think of marriage."

"And why should I?" Thorin bristled. "I already have heirs; Fili and Kili are as much my sons as any children I sired would be. I have no wish to take the throne away from them, especially after all they have done for me. I have no need to sire another bloodline."

Fili and Kili puffed their chests out in pride, and walked to stand on either side of their beloved uncle.

Dain threw his hands into the air. "Fine then! Even if you have no need to sire heirs, Erebor still needs a queen. It will strengthen your position, and take some of the pressure off of you, cousin. Don't you think I understand the position you are in, rebuilding your kingdom? If you pick well, your queen should be able to handle some of your responsibilities, Thorin. Consider it."

"And I suppose I am to choose from the dwarven nobility?" Thorin scoffed. "I have all the connections I need. I have you, cousin, and any other region that wishes to share in our newfound prosperity. I have no need to barter a wife in exchange for future aid."

Dain stomped his foot. "Ay, Thorin, I see war hasn't made you any less stubborn! Fine, if you do not desire heirs or connections, still get a wife. If you do not seek one in the nobility, then at least choose one that will limit your burden. I speak to you from love, cousin, and from my own experiences. Choose well. Whether she is a nobledam or not, I will support your decision. Just consider it."

The conversation was quickly wearing down Thorin's patience, so in an effort to end the dialogue, Thorin nodded his head and promised to consider it, before quickly ushering everyone out of the library. However, Dain stopped everyone and turned to Balin. "Why do you lot think I asked to meet in the library? There was something I have been looking for, that I hope is in your library."

Balin promised to search for whatever it was himself, after they visited the healing wing.

And so it was that Thorin ended the subject of marriage with Dain Ironfoot…for the time being.

"That dwarf dam," Dain began on their way to the healing wing, "there's something familiar about her…Not _her_, of course, I'm sure I would remember a maiden like her…but someone like her, maybe…oy, never mind. I'm sure my men will be eager to see their families, so if it's no trouble we'd like quarters for the night, and we'll be leaving on the morrow, cousin."

Thorin was just about to reply when Bombur came running up to them, huffing and puffing. "Thorin, there's trouble on the north passage! Someone's fallen!"

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**Thank you so much for those reviews! I wasn't planning on finishing this chapter until tomorrow, but those reviews really pushed me to finish this early!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

Not since the quest had Thorin seen Bombur move at such speed, as the entire group ran to the north passageway, which led to the forges. After Smaug had crippled the passage, they had created an altered path, which ran alongside a deep mining pit.

There was already a small crowd of miners around the area where the dwarf had fallen.

"Who fell? Does anyone know?" Thorin called out.

A dwarf in simple armor came forward, holding his shaking son in his arms. "Ay, my lord, it was the warrior woman, Canna. I – I asked her to come down to the forges with me to look at some armor. My son was running and he tripped, my lord, and well… she managed to catch him, but when I grabbed him she lost balance and – and…fell. It's my fault, my lord."

As he talked, some of Bombur's men arrived with ropes and torches.

"Canna! Are you there? Can you hear me?" Balin called down into the dark pit. There was no response.

Thorin called Bombur to him and muttered, "What are her chances?"

Bombur sighed. "There are a few ledges here and there. If she's lucky, she landed on one of them. If she didn't…no dwarf could survive that fall, Thorin."

Thorin sighed and shook off the sudden image of Canna lying on the cold floor of the pit, her white skin blue in death, blood seeping from her body. There would be no such deaths in his mountain, if he could help it.

The king began issuing orders. "You there, light the torch over there, with the long handle. You! Wrap the rope around the torch. Leave some rope dangling down."

Once his orders were carried out, Thorin took the rope himself and began lowering it down, with the lit torch attached. Slowly, the darkness of the pit was pushed away by the light from the torch. They were quite a ways down, with no sign of Canna, when the dampness in the pit took out the fire. Thorin growled in anger and swung the rope in irritation. He began to pull it back up when it snagged on something. At least, that was what Thorin thought, but then he felt the rope being pulled weakly.

"Canna, is that you!" he bellowed. There was no reply, but the rope was pulled a little harder.

"Are you wounded? Pull the rope once if you are, twice if you are not."

After a moment, the rope was yanked once.

Thorin took a deep breath and thought of a plan. "Are you able to tie the rope around you? We need to pull you up. Can you do that?"

She answered with one soft yank. Thorin gave her more rope, and he could faintly here her moving against the wall. Every once in a while she let out a groan, and everyone would flinch.

At last, the rope was given a tug. She was ready. Bombur, Balin, and the dwarf whose son Canna had saved were already lined up behind Thorin, ready to bring her back.

"We will begin now." That was all the warning Thorin allowed the dwarf maiden before they began pulling. Immediately they heard a moan before she seemed to restrain herself. The men pulled with more vigor. Thorin did his utmost to block out the small gasps she let out, and when he came into view, he was almost relieved. Both her arms seemed bent, most likely dislocated, and she had marks on her neck, but otherwise she appeared relatively unharmed.

Thorin was the first to haul her into his arms. She gave out a hiss and said through clenched teeth, "By all means, feel free to cause me more pain."

_Even in pain, your tongue knows no bounds_. Thorin outwardly ignored her and proceeded to hand her into Bombur's waiting arms. A messenger had already been sent to the healing wing, and soon two dwarves returned with a net in which to carry her.

Canna was just being led away when her fingers grasped Thorin's shirt. Feeling her tug, Thorin obliged and leaned down towards her, focusing on her bright amber eyes, clear even when she was in pain.

He would have been distracted by her closeness if she had not whispered, "You may want to consider building railings, King."

_At least I have another reason not to visit the healing wing_.

* * *

**Sorry this is a short chapter, everyone! Thank you so so much for the reviews! Happy Friday!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

Canna was accustomed to being stared at. However, she was not accustomed to being stared at in a moment of weakness. So the journey from the north passage to the healing wing, being carried in a net by two able-bodied dwarves through the busy hallways, cut through Canna's pride more than being hoisted into the stubborn king's arms by a rope did.

Her attempts to walk herself were ignored; unbeknownst to her, Balin had quietly warned her two transporters to ignore any attempts at independency. He had also given one of them a hastily written letter, to be read by the healer.

Canna silently stewed. If both of her arms were not practically immovable, she would have let her hair out of its braid in order to form some sort of cloak. The effort it had taken to tie the rope around her body had taken whatever strength her arms had left.

Of course, it was all the fault of King Thorin.

Canna smirked to herself; that pigheaded dwarf would not dare lash out at an injured maiden. As long as she had to suffer through the healing process, she would be sure to use her wounds to her advantage.

If she were honest, she was well aware that she should not be so hard on the king. Not only was it dangerous, but it was unreasonable.

_But it is certainly amusing_.

From all she had seen and heard, Thorin Oakenshield was not used to being challenged in such a way. He had been challenged through war, through pain, through losing his family, through dragon sickness, through the burden of responsibility. But he had never been challenged is such mundane ways.

Canna corrected herself. _Of course he would not be; nothing in his life has ever been mundane_.

The pale-skinned dwarf dam repelled any oncoming guilt by remembering his prideful words…which meant remembering every time she had ever run into him.

The healing wings were across the mountain from the forges, so the long journey afforded Canna enough time to reflect on her time in Erebor. She had arrived, annoyed the king, befriended the heirs, rekindled her friendship with Balin and Dwalin, annoyed the king, lost her way, found the royal chambers, annoyed the king, pushed her trainees for the sake of respect, annoyed the king, relished in the rare chance to read a book, _probably_ annoyed the king, saved a child, injured herself, and _surely _annoyed the king.

_Thus far, a fruitful trip._

Still, someone like her had been rescued by the lord of the mountain.

Unbeknownst to Canna as she remained deep in thought, many passing dwarves stopped in their tracks to observe her. Sitting in a net, being carried by two young dwarves, she appeared as a dwarf queen of times long gone, ethereal and somehow so distant from all around her.

"Oy, I saw her sitting at the king's table!"

"Is she nobility, traveled from the Blue Mountain?"

"Nay, probably the Iron Hills, if anywhere."

"In all me years, never seen a dam like her."

"Is she even a dwarf?"

"If she was sitting with the king, mayhap our lord is courting her?"

"I wouldn't be surprised!"

In Erebor, rumors were faster than ravens.

* * *

When Fili and Kili heard of the accident, they rushed to the healing wing as soon as their duties were fulfilled.

They burst through the doors and were immediately forced to leap to the side as a golden plate was thrown in their direction.

When they raised their heads, they saw Canna sitting up on her cot, glaring daggers at her healer, Girin.

"I told you not to touch me!" she hissed. The elderly dwarf remained perfectly calm.

"Your arms are unusable until I move your shoulders to their correct position. You can continue to kick plates and food away, and I will freely admit that you have good aim; but you cannot do so forever. There is no alternative. If you are truly a warrior, as your armor suggests, you know this."

"'Tis nothing I cannot do myself!" the maiden insisted vehemently.

Girin was unmoved. "Even if you could move one of your arms, at the cost of severe pain, you cannot set your own shoulder. I would think one such as you would know this. Do not take the stubbornness of dwarves to new heights when it concerns your health, my lady."

A sheepish Fili and Kili intervened before Canna could throw anything else at her healer.

"Girin," Fili greeted.

"My lord" and a bow was his reply. "Are you in need of my services?"

"Nay, we're just here to visit our new friend." The golden-haired dwarf smiled at Canna. "Such news travels fast in this mountain. How are you?"

Canna had relaxed slightly upon their intervention, but still kept her glaring eyes on Girin. "I am just fine, as I have tried to explain for Mahal knows how long!"

With her focus on the healer, she missed the silent exchange the two brothers had. Kili and Fili came to stand on either side of her cot. "I meant to ask earlier," Kili said, "but you said you came from Beorn's territory? How do you know him? He despises dwarves."

The sudden change of subject was enough to distract Canna. She smiled. "I came across him when –"

Without warning, each brother grabbed one of her shoulders and pushed her arm back into its place. The scream she gave encompassed the entire wing before she muffled it. At quickly as it happened, it was over. Canna panted to catch her breath from the sudden pain.

"I – I – you little orcs!"

Kili and Fili laughed even as they went to one knee in front of her. "Forgive us. We only meant well," Kili offered.

"'Meant well' my sword! Mahal…where are my swords! Bring them to me! I'm going to pin you to these walls!"

Surprised to see the poised dwarf dam in such a state, the brothers laughingly leaped away from her.

"You know, it is rather dangerous to threaten the heir to the throne," Fili mentioned with a grin.

Canna replied by grabbing a small eating knife from the bed table and throwing it in his direction. It embedded itself in the wall, inches from Fili's head.

"I don't care if you are the heir, the king, or Mahal himself! I won't forget this!"

Apparently, the unyielding nature of dwarves extended to – nay, was stronger in – the females. Kili sent a small prayer of thanks that he was betrothed to an elf. "Anyways," he said conversationally, "how do you know Beorn, hater of dwarves?"

Canna knew well that he was attempting to distract her, but she allowed it with a sigh. "When I was younger, I stumbled into him. He was in his bear form at the time. I'm sure he would have killed be, but he later told me that he was impressed with how a young maiden would bravely fight a battle she knew she would not win. I suspect he was more amused than anything. He tolerates my presence. And as for him hating dwarves…" Canna's eyes narrowed at the younger dwarves in reproach. "You should not speak so of him. Remember that it was he that came to your aid in the war, and carried your king to the mountain when he would have died. Your king owes Beorn his life. Do not speak of him so."

Fili and Kili bowed their heads. Speaking with Canna often led to them feeling off-balance. Sometimes she was open and fun-loving; other times she was somber and wise.

"Forgive us, we spoke wrongly," Fili acknowledged. "How are your arms? Judging from that knife you threw at me, I expect they feel better."

Canna was unapologetic, but she grudgingly admitted that after the initial pain, her arms felt much better.

With that she turned to Girin, who had been temporarily forgotten. He was watching her with a strange look on his face.

"I pronounce myself healed. Thank you for your aid; I shall leave now." Canna rose off the cot, gave one of her small sarcastic bows to Girin, and stalked out of the wing after grabbing her effects. She could feel the many cuts and bruises that remained on her body – when one took such a fall, they could not be avoided – but they were much easier to ignore.

Fili and Kili chose not to follow her, what with her promise of retribution still in their minds.

Canna was no more than a hundred feet out of the healing wing when she ran into Thorin and Balin, as well as the father of the child she had rescued.

Thorin stared at her but did not say anything, so Balin spoke first. "Lassie, why are you not in the healing wing?"

"Because I'm healed," Canna declared. "And I am hungry, and I believe it is almost time for dinner. Let's eat."

She made to pass them, but Balin stopped her. "Are you truly healed?"

"Yes." To demonstrate, she grabbed one of her twin swords and performed some quick and fluid moves before sheathing it.

Balin sighed and smiled fondly. "Darun here explained to us what happened, but I would like to hear it from you just once, if you will."

Canna sighed. "As you wish. Darun approached me on my way to the kitchens. I recognized him as one of the dwarves I had trained this morning. I met his son. He had questions about armor and weaponry. We were walking to the forges. His son was playing with his toy and running around. I saw him going near the edge of the road. I reached him as he was about to fall. Darun also reached to grab him, but he grabbed his son's arm and pulled. I lost balance, let go, and fell. Let's eat."

Darun fell to his knees in front of the black-haired maiden. "I owe you my son's life, Captain. If you _ever_ are in need, I will aid you. And – and forgive me, once again, for my lack of respect this morning. I'll tell the other lads too; it won't happen again, Captain."

Ignoring the urge to fidget in discomfort, Canna laughed and gestured for the dwarf to stand. "Please just call me Canna. I will not be here for long, after all. Let's eat."

Balin and Darun laughed, but Thorin's face remained expressionless.

"How long will you stay in Erebor, exactly?" the king enquired.

"I am not sure. Three months, no more than a year, I am sure. Do not worry, King; I will do my best to remain out of your sight." Leaving the men, Canna struck a path to the dining hall.

Darun watched her curiously. "Does she not know that the hall is in the other direction?"

Balin smiled. "Ever was she directionally challenged."

Even as he spoke, the old dwarf could still make out Thorin's words.

"Remain out of my sight…that is not my wish."

* * *

**Thank you for all the reviews! On that note, I'm declaring ****rainv**** my favorite fan, for the frequent reviews that always motivate me to write more. You're the best!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

Did he truly wish her out of his presence?

Balin and Darun were carrying a conversation beside him, but Thorin was lost in his own thoughts.

Canna was outspoken, unfeminine, and played on the edge of disrespectful.

Canna was ethereally beautiful, poised in many instances, skilled with weapons, and courageous.

Canna was untraditional. Canna was new. Canna was dangerous.

_And occupying far too much of my time for one dwarf dam_. He was Thorin Oakenshield, lord of Erebor, killer of Azhog the Defiler. His head was meant to filled with noble thoughts of his people, of his kingdom. Not of a dwarf dam who held no relation to him.

_But_, Thorin reasoned, _it was not his fault._ After all, in the two days she had been at Erebor, she had come in contact with him constantly. Once she stopped causing so much commotion, she would not longer be in his mind either.

_Out of sight, out of mind_.

For a week, Canna did generally keep out of Thorin's sight. An influx of newcomers and reparations did not allow the king time to observe her training, but Dwalin reported that it was going well. Upon gaining the respect of her subordinates, Canna had quickly began to shape them into able warriors. Darun's retelling of how she saved his son at her own risk softened all their hearts. And as soon as the training periods were over, Canna transformed from a stern and commanding captain to an outgoing maiden. She sat with her men during meals the entire week; seated at the other end of the hall, Thorin watched her laugh, chatter, and make drunken bets with those of low rank in his mountain.

No matter where she sat, she drew attention. Thorin began to suspect that even had she looked like any average dwarf maiden, she would do so.

Fili and Kili were becoming closer with her as each day passed. Although Canna was certainly older than the two, their youthful spirits coincided. Thorin secretly worried that the quest and subsequent war had traumatized his beloved nephews. If it had, Canna's friendship appeared to reduce some of their burden; he found them smiling and laughing frequently after time in her presence.

Thorin found himself increasingly frustrated by his ambivalence to Canna. As a king, he had to be able to read people, to discern their goodness, their motives, their minds.

He needed to speak with someone. And of course, who better to speak with than his royal advisor, Balin?

After another dinner of watching Canna hold the attention of those around her with some story, Thorin asked Balin to accompany him to his own quarters.

Once inside and comfortable, Thorin began. "Forgive me, my old friend, for bringing you all the way here. But I have certain concerns that I must address."

Balin leaned forward in alarm. "What is it, Thorin?"

"Your friend, Canna. Is she a threat?"

Balin reared back in his seat. "Thorin! What has come over you; this is not like you! She is a dwarf dam, not some goblin mercenary! Is…is it the dragon sickness? Thorin, has it come over you again?"

Thorin felt like he had been struck with a poisoned spear. "No! Never, _never_ again! It is not…'tis not _that_."

Balin remained suspicious. "Then what? Canna has not made any commotion for a week. Indeed, she has quite admirably avoided you, I believe. What's that lass done to you?"

"I cannot read her." Thorin felt highly uncomfortable speaking of this, and moved around in his soft armchair. "As dwarves, we do not stray from what we hold dear, from our traditions. She casts them all off as nothing."

"Casts what off?"

"Anything dwarf-like."

Balin silently chuckled. "Really? I always thought she was rather _too_ dwarf-like at times. But really, Thorin, with all your responsibilities and burdens, I am surprised that you seem more concerned about Canna, of all things."

Thorin remained silent, so Balin began to formulate his own ideas. "Thorin…is it that you view Canna in a…in another light?"

Thorin was no fool; he knew what Balin was asking. He immediately made to yell "No!" However, Thorin was nothing if not honest, and so he paused.

"Perhaps speaking your thoughts out loud will help you sort through them," Balin offered kindly.

Thorin nodded with a sigh; he trusted Balin implicitly; he felt no fear, only embarrassment, in letting the old dwarf be privy to his inner thoughts.

"She is beautiful, in a very different manner…I know my mother was considered a beautiful dwarf dam, but Canna is so unlike her. Ay, I acknowledge that I find her…more than lovely. Perhaps that is all?"

Baliln's brow furrowed. "You believe that you merely desire her physically?"

Thorin flushed. As heir to the throne and an honorable dwarf, he had never indulged in such pleasures prior to Erebor's fall. And with his frantic workload as king, he had no time to even think of such matters.

Perhaps that was it; he needed an outlet from the burden of being king, and he saw one in Canna.

Thorin repelled the thought even as it snuck into his mind. He was an honorable dwarf, not some lowlife without honor, dignity, or morals. "Perhaps I do…desire her, but I do not know if that is all."

Balin hid a smile. "I have known you since you were born, Thorin. I know your habits, your likes and dislikes, your strengths, your weaknesses. I can understand why you are drawn to Canna. Indeed, I would encourage it. You are far too stubborn, Thorin, even for a dwarf. Without realizing it, those you value most are those that have the strength of will to stand up to you."

"Yes, yes, but this is not the time for such things." Thorin got up and began pacing the spacious room in exasperation. "In such a perilous time for Erebor, I have no time for mere dalliances. If I am to tie myself to any maiden, it must be with the intention of making her queen of the mountain."

"And?"

"Clearly that cannot be Canna."

"And why not?" Balin also stood, albeit more slowly. "Have you forgotten Dain's words so quickly? These are troubled times for Middle-Earth, Thorin. The remaining dwarven realms must and _will_ come together if we are to protect our race. You no longer need to choose your queen for the sake of building relations between realms, as your ancestors have had to. You must focus on a queen who will help _you_; one who can relieve you of some of your burdens. Do not think that I do not notice the darkness under your eyes. At any rate," he said with a shake of his head, "now is not the time for such thoughts. I would advise you to first befriend Canna, before you entertain thoughts of queens and desires, my friend. At the moment, I do not believe Canna likes you very much."

Thorin laughed wearily. "Ay, so I would imagine."

Balin thought for a moment, and then spoke again. "Are you aware of the rumors that you are betrothed to Canna?"

Thorin promptly landed back in his chair. "What?"

"Ay, the last week I have heard much talk; we dwarves are not known for holding our tongues, after all. Seeing her sit with us for meals the first few days, and with you rescuing her when she fell and watching her during her first training exercise, I am not surprised to hear such things. Keep that in mind."

"Ay."

"Of course, with Canna sitting with the trainees for meals now, our people now believe that you have done something to anger your betrothed." Balin's blue eyes twinkled with merriment.

Thorin rolled his eyes. "They wouldn't be wrong."

* * *

The next day, Thorin was determined to witness Canna train the troops. It would mean moving earlier appointments to noon, and he would have to miss the midday meal, but he was not one to dally on deciding a course of action. The king needed to decide whether or not he would pursue his interest in the visiting dwarf maiden, and he needed to decide soon.

He made sure to stand in a corner of the arena where he could not be seen, and he was pleased with what he saw. Not only were the dwarves under Canna's guidance progressing in their skills, but with her long black braid flinging from side-to-side and a thin sheen of sweat on her brow, Thorin's focus was on the trainer more than the trainees.

The men were stopping for their midday meal when Thorin approached them. "Well done, men. I am pleased with your progress." They immediately formed a rank at the sight of them. Thorin smiled in approval. "You will be worthy protectors of Erebor. Please, go the hall and enjoy a fine meal. I would wish to speak with your captain for a moment."

Canna waited until they had all left the arena before facing the king. Thorin waited for her to speak, but for the first time, she seemed to be holding her tongue.

"You are training them well," he finally said.

Canna looked surprised before a wide smile lit her face. Thorin gulped.

"They're good lads; they'll be good soldiers, in time."

Thorin grunted. "Are you really so old that you view them as 'lads'?"

"Ay, I'm 133," she replied unabashedly. Being far longer lived than Men, dwarves were not as secretive about their ages. "And the oldest amongst them is not eighty-five."

"I see…I am 147." Thorin did not know what made him add that last part, and form the looks of it neither did Canna.

"Well…that is good."

"Yes."

The inanity of the conversation threatened to envelope them both. Thorin was surprised that Canna did not just walk away, as she would have done previously. It seemed that a week away from him and tamed her.

It was an unnerving thought.

Thorin tried again. "Your wounds have healed fully?"

"Ay."

"Good."

Canna looked like she wanted to laugh at him now. Thorin wished she would, so that the suffocating silence would end.

"I commissioned railings…for those passages."

This peaked the dwarf maiden's interest. "You – you really listened to me?"

"In light of the accident, how could I not?" He gave her a small smile. "It was something I should have thought of myself. No one would have gotten hurt."

Canna's head tilted slightly to one side; Thorin found it endearing.

"Is there someone behind you with a knife in your back, forcing you to be polite to me?"

She was no longer endearing. She was infuriating.

"As far as I am concerned, maiden, ever have I extended courtesy to you. It is not my fault if you cannot accept it gracefully."

The fire was back in her amber eyes. "If you insist. I actually love to accept courtesy, when it _is_ offered to me. Perhaps you have another dam in mind. If so, I would ask that you go and offend her, King! I told you before: do not insult me. I will make you regret it."

Oh, how he was regretting this entire conversation! When had it gone wrong?

_As soon as she found her tongue again_.

A change of plans were in order. First, Thorin would defeat her in this battle of wits and tempers. Once he defeated her at her own game, _then_ he would decide whether or not she was worthy of any of his affection.

_I will have war_.

* * *

**Holy guacamole, the reviews I got for that last chapter were so awesome! They motivated me so much I've done my best to make this chapter a little extra long. I love you guys for taking the time to let me know what you think! **

**P.S. QUESTION: If and how did people in the medieval ages keep their teeth clean? I doubt they had dentists at the time. Sorry, I was just wondering if anyone had any ideas. Thanks a bunch!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

In hindsight, Canna had to admit that her latest bout with the king had been her fault. As unbelievable as she found it to be, he _had_ been sincerely polite to her.

Canna had spent a great portion of her life relatively alone. Being in greater society and learning when to hold her tongue were rare occurrences.

She should apologize. She did not want to, but the guilt had been growing within her as the hours passed. When she ended training for the day, she was filled with purpose.

"Sorry lads, but I won't be sitting with you tonight," she informed her men. "I shall see you tomorrow. Good work."

When dinner arrived, Canna approached Balin. "May I sit with you tonight? There is…there is something I need to tell the king."

The elderly dwarf smiled kindly at her. "My dear lass, you are always welcome. You are, after all, my guest. Come, sit with me."

Canna felt a glow of affection for her old friend. Never had she heard him speak unkindly or unfairly to anyone, herself included. It was a wonderful gift, one she envied at times.

The king raised an eyebrow at her presence, but otherwise said nothing. Fili, Kili, and Dwalin, however, were thrilled.

"Oy, lassie, how goes your training?" Dwalin asked.

"It goes well. They are progressing quickly; they're all good lads. But Dwalin, how many have joined your army now?

"Many of our newcomers are skilled, so we already have a sizeable number. Alas, in these dark time we need as many fighters as we can train."

Canna nodded in agreement but said no more. Balin noticed her subdued demeanor and, wanting to give her and Thorin a chance to speak, engaged the others in conversation about preparations for the arrival of Dis, Thorin's sister and Fili and Kili's mother.

Knowing this was her chance, Canna took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before turning to the king. She was shocked to find his gaze already on her, pinning her down.

She almost lost her nerve, but shook her head. _You are a dwarf! You do not feel fear!_

Just as Canna was ready to speak, the king cut her off. "Did you sit here to spew more accusations at me?"

Embarrassment caused a flush to enter Canna's pale cheeks. She lowered her gaze. "I sat here to apologize…to you. Forgive me."

She dared not look up at the king's face. What would she see?

She had no way of knowing that Thorin felt a hint of guilt for his scathing words. Perhaps it had been deserved, but as king, he should have known to hold his tongue, even if she could not.

And her sad demeanor and soft words only made him feel worse. He did not like her in this state – where was the bold maiden that met his eye and spoke her mind without a thought?

Without knowing how to reply to this sudden turn of events, both dwarves remained silent as the conversation flowed around them.

Canna barely picked at her steaming food, but when the drinks were passed around, she grabbed her mug greedily and gulped the mead down.

Balin glanced at her before turning his questioning gaze at Thorin. He was watching Canna intently.

Not many were aware that Canna _loved_ to drink. She refrained from doing so often because of its heady effect on her, but like many dwarves, she dearly loved a fine malt beer.

And at the moment, she would rather drink her troubles away than remain consciously aware of the tension between her and the king of the mountain.

Three times her mug was refilled to the brim. She was on her way to asking for another refill when Dwalin reached forward and grabbed her mug away. Canna yelled her outrage and clumsily made to retrieve it.

"I think you've had enough, lass," Dwalin spoke steadily, meeting her hazy gaze.

Canna shook her head fervently. "It's not enough! It's never enough." Her plaintive remarks were ignored.

Balin sighed and gently took one of the maiden's arms. "Come, my dear. I think you've had a long day."

Canna sluggishly nodded and stood to her feet.

* * *

Thorin's eyes remained on the seat that Canna had occupied mere moments ago. He was beginning to realize something about her – she was an extreme. From not drinking at all to drinking heavily, and avoiding him and then fighting him, and throwing herself into danger to save a child, she was all extremes.

It was neither wise nor justified.

But he rather enjoyed it.

* * *

Balin retained his hold on Canna's arm as they trekked to her quarters. The woman occasionally stumbled and was constantly murmuring under her breath, but did not strike up a conversation.

"Canna, perhaps you won't remember this on the morrow, but still, I must say it. Thorin is my king. I have known him since he was a wee lad, and the struggles he has gone through are severe indeed. He is under such burden, raising Erebor from the rubble. I have also known you since you were a tiny lass. Your struggles are not to be belittled, but I am asking you, not to burden my king further. His words may be poorly chosen, but his heart is good, his mind sound. I love you both dearly, and it is through this love that I tell you, to exercise some control. You are no longer alone in a lawless wilderness, and there are rules to such a life."

Canna stared at him blankly.

Balin sighed. "My dear child…come, let us get you to bed."

Canna dumbly nodded her head and followed.

* * *

Dawn found the trainees greeting a _very_ irascible Canna. The day's training was exhausting, and by the end everyone, the captain included, was aching.

"We shall end an hour early today. You may go."

The grateful young dwarves fled the arena as soon as they could. Canna chuckled bitterly and, after cleaning her weapons, marched to her rooms. She was about to head out to the public baths when a messenger stopped her with a written note. Canna pulled it out and read it.

A great feast is being held to celebrate the return of Dis, daughter of Thrain, sister of King Thorin, to the realm of Erebor. Wear your finest dress to the feast.

The letter was not signed.

Canna growled; the feast had been planned for the last several days, but she had not planned on dressing for it. In hindsight, she should have known better.

Suddenly, she felt like having a drink.

* * *

The reunion between Thorin and his sister was a pleasant one. His sister shared his dark hair and fair height, but where his eyes were a steely grey, hers were dark and brown.

Their temperaments were also similar, as was evident minutes after their reunion.

"Brother, this is ridiculous! I have no need for a feast! This is such a busy time, we cannot afford such frivolities. You should know better!

"I know better than you!" he bellowed. "Do not argue with me on this, Dis. Your quarters are ready, now rest before the feast. Go!"

"You will not tell me when to go, Thorin! Remember who is older! I will see you soon." With a sweep of her robes, she stalked out of the Hall of Kings.

Thorin ran a hand over his face; he dearly loved his sister, but there were times when he wanted to lock her in a dungeon.

He had not slept well; images of Canna's subdued face from dinner kept running through his mind. He wondered if she had received his note. Would she obey? Would she even show? It was required that all dwarves in Erebor, regardless of rank, come to the celebration. Thorin knew that this feast was needed; his people needed to be reminded that their lives would not be limited to hard work and labor. The rebuilding of the city was progressing well; the citizens deserved a fine reward for their toils.

The hall was ready; every table was piled high with delicious foods; kegs filled to the brim with mead lined the walls, and small jewels and gold dust were strewn over everything, including the food itself. The wealth of Erebor was meant to be spread to all its people.

Thorin himself was dressed in a tunic of dark navy, with black breeches, black boots, and a velvet robe of blue and gold. He had opted not to wear his crown, and wore a simple gold circlet instead.

All thirteen of the dwarves that formed the original company entered the hall together, dressed elegantly. The cheers that rose at their entrance were deafening. On Thorin's arm was his sister, Lady Dis, dressed in a long-flowing dress of grey. Behind them walked her sons, Fili and Kili, who were smiling from ear to ear.

The feast was loud and merry, but Thorin could not see Canna anywhere. A sliver of disappointment coursed through him. Balin saw his wandering gaze and inwardly smiled, before sending a look to Dwalin. The large muscular dwarf grinned and excused himself from the table before leaving the hall.

Dis was glowing with the joy of returning to her home. She laughed often and could be seen speaking in a low voice with her brother and sons.

At length, Dwalin returned to the table, but this time he brought someone with him. Thorin turned to question Dwalin and froze, speechless.

Canna's hair was not in its usual braid. Instead, it flowed freely down her back, past her hips. A few small and intricate braids held the hair from her face. Her dress was crimson and cut in the fashion of most dwarven dresses, hugging her chest and loose around her legs. She wore no jewelry, which was exceedingly strange for any dwarf dam, but her amber eyes were bright and illuminated by the torchlight, and Thorin thought her exceedingly beautiful.

The company too, seemed enamoured. Bifur was quick to laugh. "Oy, Dwalin, what magic did you weave to get a lass like her on your arm?"

Everyone laughed, and only when Canna's shoulders relaxed slightly did Thorin note how tense she had been upon entering.

Canna ate and laughed with the company, but Thorin could still see the taughtness of her arms, the wariness in her eyes and they flicked back and forth. She had been introduced to Dis, who immediately found her fascinating. Upon discovering that she had been requested by Balin to train Erebor's troops, she instantly took a liking to this strange maiden.

"I learned how to wield a sword well enough, and even shoot a crossbow, but to survive by myself; I do not know if I could have done so!"

Canna smiled. "I am no expert of a crossbow. I wield dual swords, and I suppose I could wield a bow well enough, but nothing fancy."

"But dear, do you not own any finery? This is a dwarven feast, after all!"

"Ay, that it is. But I do not carry jewels or gold with me on my travels, lest I want to have every beggar and greedy eye attacking me. It is safer to carry nothing than to carry everything."

Thorin did not know if he should be pleased or worried that his sister enjoyed Canna's presence.

At length, the tables were pushed aside and the dancing began. Canna danced first with Balin, then Dwalin, and then Fili, Kili, Bifur, Bombur, Oin, and the thirty men under her temporary command.

Thorin danced with his sister before she was swept away by her merry sons. After that, he sat in his high chair and watched Canna. She clearly was not an avid dancer, but she was laughing and her glossy hair was catching the torchlight as many a dwarf swung her around.

Knowing full well that rumors would only spread further should he choose to dance with her and no one else, Thorin first danced with others, from maids to daughters and sisters of nobledwarves. Some were very beautiful in the classic way of dwarves, but none were as stimulating as Canna. In fact, most seemed intimidated by him.

It was with much anticipation on his part that Thorin, King Under the Mountain, asked Canna for one dance.

The laughter died from her eyes as he stood, waiting for her answer.

"I – I am not a very good dancer. I would recommend otherwise."

"I insist."

"Well, that solves everything, does it not?" A little of the light returned to her eyes, and she placed her white hand in his. Thorin felt the callousness in what should have been soft skin, felt the roughness which comes from being a warrior, and he felt a strange thrill.

As promised, she was as clumsy in dancing as she was graceful in sparring. Several times did she step on his boots, and Thorin quickly noted that underneath her elegant dress, she was wearing her usual, worn black boots. It made him smile.

Canna seemed uncomfortable in his arms, though.

"Are you not enjoying the feast?"

"I am, I am! Your sister is…very different from what I expected."

"Oh? What did you expect?"

"Are you certain you wish to hear my answer?"

"Ay, I am."

Canna still looked uncertain, but she continued nonetheless. "I expected her to be the woman you accuse me of not being. Soft-spoken, quiet, neither a warrior nor outspoken. She is none of those."

"Ay, if only I had raised her myself. But alas, she was born before me."

Canna let out a surprised bubble of laughter.

Despite his grim appearance, Thorin was smiling inside. She had laughed, at _his_ words, in _his_ arms.

_Progress_.

* * *

**The reviews I got for the last chapter blew me away! You guys get more awesome every time, if that's even possible!**

**And thanks for those of you who answered my very weird and random question! I hope you guys like this chapter! It's the longest one so far. Let me know what you think. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

All who attended considered the celebration a success. It was obvious that their king wished to spread the wealth of Erebor to all his people, and praise for Thorin was sung loudly through the halls for days.

In the comfort of his own quarters, Thorin too admitted that the feast had been splendid. The company had been pleasant, his people happy, and he had danced with Canna.

His thoughts strayed to his conversation with her. It was true that, despite their different stations, Canna and his sister shared many traits. Was that why he was drawn to this strange maiden?

_No_. Despite their similarities, they were still different. Whereas Dis could be bold and a little haughty due to her rank, Canna was not royalty.

Or was she?

With a jolt, Thorin realized that, apart from what he had heard from Balin, Fili, Kili, and Canna herself, he knew very little about her.

Who are her parents? How does Balin know them? Where was she born? Why does she travel Middle-earth rather than stay at home with her mother and father?

So many unanswered questions…

Early the next morning, Thorin checked to assure himself that Dis' chambers were to her liking, and then began another day filled with the overseeing of Erebor's reconstruction, the influx of dwarves to the mountain, and the sending of gold to Dale for the citizens of Laketown.

Fili attended to all the most important duties with Thorin; the king was determined to make his nephew ready for the throne should he perish at any time.

Before the midday meal, Oin came to see him and requested that he be appointed to assist in the healing wing. Thorin had asked him to first aid in other areas of Erebor, but with reconstruction well on its way, he quickly granted his apothecary friend the position he so wished for.

His sister's presence both impeded and relieved his schedule; on one hand, he now had to consider her safety and comfort every day; however, she had surprised him by standing at his side to welcome the incoming dwarves to Erebor. Afterwards, she had offered to perform the duty herself, thereby freeing him from the duty.

With these frantic days, dinner always found him in a bad mood.

Canna was sitting with her men again, far from him. This did not aid his mood, particularly when he had so many questions to ask her. He knew Balin well enough to be sure that it was futile to ask him anything concerning Canna. The elderly dwarf would just shake his head and murmur something like, "These tales are not mine to tell."

And he would be right.

For one week, Thorin planned. Even when Canna came and sat by Balin for dinner, he did nothing more than greet her cordially – her apology and the feast had made them a little more pleasant to each other.

Finally, a week later, he was ready. He _would_ get the answers he so sought, and he would get them from Canna herself.

* * *

When a messenger Arrived with another not for Canna, as her day of training ended, Canna was most suspicious.

The same hand wrote this note, she could tell. She read the following:

The king requests your presence in the library, following dinner. 

Do not be tardy.

As angry as the last line made her, Canna was more curious than anything. She had not done anything to offend the king this last week; not since the celebration. Indeed, relations between her and Thorin Oakenshield were improved since that night.

It was possible he wished to discuss the progress her troops had made. This being the only reason Canna could think of, she decided to make nothing more of it, and after freshening up, sat at dinner with her men as usual.

After eating heartily, she made her way to the library with slow steps.

As she expected, the large room was empty except for the king himself. He sat in one of the chairs, arms crossed, watching her.

Canna walked up to him and dropped the note in his lap. "Even your letters are insulting." Her voice did not quite contain the venom it would have had a week ago.

"My apologizes." His voice contained no anger, but a hint of a smile instead. "Please be seated."

After a moment's hesitation, Canna chose a seat across from the king. When he did not speak, she voiced her own thoughts. "Why am I here?"

"To answer my questions."

"Questions? Concerning what?"

"You."

"What?!"

Thorin grinned at her incredulity. "As the guest of my chief royal advisor, it will be to both our benefits – and Balin's relief – if we can find some common ground on which to…not be adversaries."

The carefully chosen words made Canna laugh outright. "Spoken like royalty," she guffawed. Once she had controlled herself, she nodded. "So, you wish to ask me questions."

"Ay."

"About me."

"Ay. If I ask too bold a question, tell me so."

"Fear not; I have nothing to hide." With that, Canna made herself more comfortable in her seat and waited.

Thorin was startled; he had expected her to argue, or to refuse to reveal personal information like this. Although, now that he recalled, she had ever been open to asking whatever questions Fili and Kili threw at her.

Her openness pleased him, and so he began.

"Where were you born?"

"On land."

The king grunted in irritation.

Canna laughed. "A small dwarfish fishing village."

"Where is this village?"

"On the outskirts of King Dain's territory, along the shores."

"Tell me about this village."

"What do you wish to know?"

"Everything."

"Oh." Canna took a moment to collect her thoughts. "There were a number of fishing villages like mine, all along the shore of Dain's land. We provided fish to the inner cities in return for whatever goods we needed. It was a simple life, but a good one. My village in particular was also regarded for its strategic location; the enemy would need to first attack us if they wanted to pass to the other villages. Most of the menfolk were also able warriors, so the thought did not plague us."

"Were you attacked often?"

"No, perhaps once a year, if I remember. And no more than a few mindless orcs that lost their way. It was a fairly peaceful life."

"I see."

Canna waited. "Is that all?"

"No!" There was so much he wanted to ask her…"Tell me about your parents?"

Canna started. "What do you wish to know?"

"Everything."

"I see…My mother is considered a great beauty. She has long black hair, beautiful, really. And her skin is as white as the sea foam, and she's more slender than most dwarf dams. People say I look so much like her." The last line was said thoughtfully, with no vanity whatsoever. "Of course, her eyes are brown. My eyes are my father's. He is, well…he reminds me much of Dwalin, I suppose – fair height, burly, strong, with a booming voice. He is red-bearded, though. A good fisherman, and a skilled warrior. He could wield sword and axe."

It was clear that Canna held much affection for her parents. Thorin smiled at the warmth in her voice as she spoke of them.

"Where are they now?"

"Oh, they are dead," she responded casually.

"WHAT?"

* * *

**Sorry this chapter is a bit short! Thank you so so so much for the reviews! **


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

"All this time, they've been dead?"

Canna appeared unperturbed, if a little confused. "Yes, of course they have."

"Then how is it that neither you nor Balin ever mentioned it?"

"You never asked." Canna smiled cheekily.

Thorin would have a talk with Balin soon, but right now another question was burning in his mind. "How did they die?"

"Orcs. And now, I must retire." The maiden made to get up, but Thorin raised an arm and stopped her.

"You have answered my questions truthfully and peacefully. Is there anything you wish to ask me?"

Canna thought for a moment. There was much she wanted to ask him. "I don't know where to start. Perhaps…what was the true purpose of asking me all these questions?"

"I wished to understand you better. It is not every day I meet a dwarf like you."

This was not the first time Canna had heard those words. "Yes yes, I am well aware of how others look at me."

Thorin wondered at her neutral tone. "And what about how I look at you?" He had meant to ask out of curiosity, but the way his voice had suddenly deepened even more and softened betrayed him.

The dwarf maiden gave him a startled look. Thorin waited tensely for her to speak, but when she finally did, it was only a quiet "Sleep well, King," before she scampered out of his quarters.

_What a fool I am_.

* * *

Balin was summoned to the King's Room the next morning. This room sat adjacent to the Hall of Kings, and was where the king conducted most of his business or advisory meetings.

Thorin quickly noted, with some bitterness, that his advisor did not appear surprised in the least to be summoned so early.

"What is it, Thorin?" the elderly dwarf inquired, once they were both comfortably seated.

"I suppose you are aware that I had a…meeting, with Canna," the king began gruffly.

Balin hid a smile. "Yes, I am."

"Why did you never mention that her mother and father are dead?"

"You never asked."

Thorin bristled, but made no argument. "So, when you spoke of this 'old friend' of yours…"

"Ay, he is dead. But that does not mean he is no longer my friend of old."

Really, there was no point in arguing with Balin. It made him invaluable as an advisor, but a bit annoying as a friend.

"She was not insulted, was she?" Balin asked.

"No. If anything, she was…very…"

"Open?" the advisor suggested.

"Ay."

"This surprises you?"

"Ay."

"Ah, you've grown cynical, Thorin. But she wasn't always like this."

Thorin perked up; he had not expected Balin to offer any insight into Canna. He leaned forward. "Continue."

Balin leaned back in his seat and thought back. "She used to be quite a wild thing, no manners or sense of breeding at all; very cheap with her words, and hated speaking of her past as much as you do, Thorin. She was quite an angry lass, always baring her teeth at some poor lad," he said with a fond chuckle. "She's changed far more than I would've thought; I suppose time works wonders. If you had met her before Erebor's fall, you'd surely have thrown her from the ramparts."

Thorin ignored his friend's merriness and absorbed this new information.

"There are times," he admitted to Balin, "that I wonder if she is _too_…perfect. Ay, I am well-aware that she is disrespectful and such, but at times…I suppose it appears as if a strength."

Balin laughed. "Ah, Thorin, you're only just beginning to know her, my friend. She has faults aplenty; she has just gotten better at hiding them. I wonder what has happened to bring about such change, but I am glad for it. I tell you, as long as I'd known her, she was as reckless as I ever met. Gave me a good scare, always, knowing she was out there by herself and as angry and wild as a beast. Only through Mahal's blessing did she survive, I'm sure."

"And now?"

"Now…she is hiding herself. She is holding herself close by the reins as long as she is under your mountain, Thorin, and I am glad for it."

Thorin silently debated whether or not _he_ was glad for it.

Balin continued, oblivious to his king's inner argument. "So believe me, Thorin, she has flaws aplenty. To hear you say that you believe she lacks flaws, shows flaws in your judgment."

Thorin did not acknowledge Balin, for he could not say what he was thinking.

_It is not that she is perfect. She is perfect _for me_._

* * *

It was a few days letter when Dain's letter reached Erebor. It was an invitation – a request, really – that Thorin travel to the Iron Hills where meetings of the remaining dwarf lords were to be held. With Erebor once again under the command of the dwarves, new strategies could be made to repel the forces of darkness and protect their race. Knowing that Erebor was busy being rebuilt, Dain had graciously offered to host the meeting in his domain, provided that his cousin attends.

For his part, Thorin was loath to leave his kingdom, despite reclaiming it months ago. But this was a crucial meeting, one that could cement Erebor's future.

Preparations were quickly made for the king's journey. Balin was to stay and rule Erebor in Thorin's stead, as would Fili. Kili, however, would accompany Thorin, along with Oin and Gloin. The rest of the company would remain in Erebor, since each now shouldered many responsibilities.

Dwalin greatly protested to being left behind, but Thorin insisted.

"You know as well as I do that I would feel far more reassured to have you at my side for this journey," the king reasoned with his friend of many years, "but you are the commander of our army; should evil threaten our kingdom, there are none I would trust to protect our home but you. Please, do this for me."

With a sigh, Dwalin nodded. "Ay, for my king."

If only that were the end of it.

"But I won't have my king traveling without adequate protection."

"But the road is not treacherous! There is no need for a great many dwarves to travel on this journey!" Thorin protested angrily.

Dwalin shook his head. "A few traders wish to take this opportunity to go there, as you know. If they should join your group, you will need protection. I will send Canna's rank with you. They have done well enough to put them out into the world, now. As you said, the journey should not be too dangerous. Canna will accompany you as well, to supervise them. All together, it will be thirty-five of you, plus whichever traders you allow to come with you."

And so it was that, a week later, Canna and her troupe were seen trudging alongside a cheerful Oin and Kili, a proud Gloin, four excited tradesmen, and a thoroughly disgruntled Thorin Oakenshield.

* * *

**I'm very sorry for the delayed update, guys! School restarted, so that involved a lot of traveling and stuff. I think we can expect these weekly updates from now on, although I'll try to make it quicker.**

**I adored the reviews I got! Please let me know what you think! Things are gonna be more fast-paced in this story from now on. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

Thorin was angry. Not annoyed, or upset, or saddened, or mildly irritated. Angry.

There was no particular reason for his being so. The traders, along with the assistants that scuttled around them, were a chatty bunch, but they were respectful and did not try to cause any discontent. His nephew, as well as Oin and Gloin, did everything they could to make the journey efficient and comfortable. The soldiers that encircled the entire group were quiet and determined when on the move, and good merry folks when camp was made.

Truly, Thorin could not place blame on any of the men, for they had done nothing wrong.

Which left the woman, Canna.

She had already befriended Kili, Oin, and Gloin, and certainly had the staunch support and hard-won respect of her soldiers. The traders were wary of her, but were respectful in their speech.

But she was different.

Thinking back, Thorin remembered Balin saying something about her hiding her true personality while in Erebor. It seemed he was right.

The changes were subtle. She was quieter, for one, and even at night when they sat to relax, her eyes surveyed her surroundings as she chuckled at a comrade's joke. She was constantly aware of their environment, and not so quick to laugh.

However, her smiles were a little more genuine, her eyes a little softer, her expressions a little more pronounced.

She was far more trouble than she was worth, Thorin decided. Why could she not be simple-minded, without so many layers?

"Do you make good money, selling onions?" Thorin heard Canna ask one of the traders.

His eyes widened. _Onion…she was like an onion. With many layers, and an ability to bring on large headaches in close proximity_.

He had never had such an absurd thought before…truly, she was driving him to insanity.

The road they were taking to the Iron Hills was not particularly treacherous, although the growing evil of Middle-Earth put that into question. The simplest path between the two dwarf realms was well-trodden with the recent bustle of dwarves between the reclaimed mountain and the green hills.

But this was not the road Thorin's company would take; it was too well-known and busy for a king to be traveling; if evil was lurking, they would more than likely be watching that busy path.

The road they were on now was an older and slightly longer one, but it did a well enough job of avoiding both attention and obstacles that would make the journey arduous. The traders in particular, who traveled with their wagons laden with materials, were thankful for this.

Thorin prayed to Mahal that at least this journey would pass without incident. His last journey had been anything but.

* * *

It was not until they neared the woods that Canna, Thorin, Gloin, and Kili sensed it. The most seasoned warriors of the group, they immediately slowed the pace. Canna quietly alerted her troops and ordered them to form a tighter circle around the traders. Thorin, Gloin, Kili, and Canna surrounded the soldiers atop their horses. Oin remained inside the circle, protecting the traders.

No one spoke as they continued on their journey. Canna's soldiers were nervous and jumped at any sound, and Canna felt like a shepherd, circling her herd.

Whatever presence they felt did not show itself. Kili and the soldiers, being young and thus keener-eyed, kept their eyes trained on their surroundings.

They had almost passed the woods when night fell. Thorin saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and barely yelled out a warning before the first arrow fell.

The first arrow embedded itself in one of the soldier's shoulder.

"Tarkin!" Canna exclaimed as she spurred her horse forward. Kili's arrow shot down the assailant, but soon many more arrows sped towards the dwarves, as well as armed orcs.

Canna was the first to reach them, slicing through the spawns of evil with her dual swords. With a mighty roar, Thorin was beside her, hacking through the horde atop his mount.

The traders remained where they were as all the soldiers mounted an attack on the orcs. However, only five of the thirty carried arrows or crossbows, and only Kili was experienced enough to accurately hit the orcs that hid amidst the trees.

This had to be a trap. The location gave every advantage to the orcs.

"Retreat!" Thorin yelled in Khazdul.

The wagons were already moving away. Amidst heavy fire Thorin and his company slowly moved away from the woods, the soldiers using their shields to protect themselves and each other. Canna was barking orders at her men when an arrow pierced her horse's neck. Without time to jump off, Canna went crashing to the ground with her mount. She rolled yards away from the dead horse, dazed.

Thorin did not remember a time when he had ridden so quickly on a horse.

"Go! I will follow!" he commanded Kili and Gloin.

"No, I will stay with you!" barked Kili.

"Do as I say! Lead the others!"

With a roar of frustration, Kili did as he was told and everyone picked up their pace.

Thorin leaped into the fray of approaching orcs with a fury he had not felt since the Battle of the Five Armies.

When he was close to Canna, he quickly jumped down and hoisted her onto his horse before leaping up behind her.

By some luck, no arrows hit his own mount, as Thorin fled the area with Canna.

They were almost at the bridge when the second group of orcs fell upon them.

"No!" Thorin yelled, digging his heels into his mount. They had to cross the bridge…it was their only way of crossing the river.

But the orcs were waiting. This was most certainly a trap.

Thorin just barely maneuvered his horse before an arrow pierced its hide. Dwarves were not known for their horsemanship, and at any other time he would have sent a silent prayer of thanks to his father and grandfather for his extensive riding lessons.

But now was not the time. His life, as well as that of the dwarf dam pressed against his chest, was in grave danger.

But it appeared that Canna had come out of her daze. Without warning, she ripped the horse's reins from Thorin's hands and turned the horse sharply towards the river.

"What are you doing?" the king bellowed, desperately grabbing the reins from her.

"We have to go into the river!" Canna exclaimed back, shrinking as arrows flew by their heads. "The river will carry us away! Your horse is tiring!"

_This is madness. She is madness_. But it was true that his horse was struggling to maintain this pace, and if his horse fell, they would have no choice anyways.

_I will regret this_. With one mighty tug, Thorin sent his mount flying into the river.

The force of the plunge yanked Canna and Thorin away from the horse and each other.

For what felt like eternity, Thorin felt the underwater currents yanking him as if he were a rag. Dwarves were not swimmers, and he was barely proficient.

And then a pair of arms encircled his waist. They attempted to push him upwards, and with the last of his strength, Thorin pumped his legs.

The cold air filled Thorin's lungs as he gasped, and then the currents pulled him under once more.

This time, Thorin looked at the person whose hand held his. With her braid swirling around like a serpent, Canna squeezed his hand and smiled. She smiled at him. Underwater.

If not for the absurdity of their situation, Thorin would have smiled back.

Retaining her hold on his hand and intertwining their fingers, Canna began pulled him forward. She appeared to be much more comfortable with the water than Thorin did, so he did as she wished him to.

The river's currents were too strong to resist, but Canna persevered. Thorin wondered why they did not stay near the surface, but when they did go up for a gulp of air, he realized why.

If they had stayed near the surface, the arrows would have killd them in no time.

The orcs still pursued them from the shores, although they were dwindling in number. Their shrieks prompted the dwarves to dive down once more, using the raging waters as protection.

How long they kept this up, Thorin did not know. But eventually, the river flowed too quickly for the orcs to keep up. Canna and Thorin were both beyond weary from fighting the currents.

It was the sight of hooves in the water that gave them their last strength. It appeared that, in pursuit of the dwarves, the orcs had neglected to pursue their horse as well. And horses were much stronger swimmers than dwarves.

With their last bits of strength, Canna and Thorin swam to the panicked horse and grabbed its reins. Without the threat of orcs, they were able to stay near the surface, gasping for air.

Canna caught Thorin's eye. "Just hold on!" she yelled over the bellow of the raging water.

Thorin nodded before closing his eyes, hoping against hope that his horse would carry them to safety.

* * *

The feeling of rough dirty grating against her back was the best sensation Canna had felt in a long time. With a gasp, she pried her clenched fingers off of the horse's reins, her head crashing to the earth.

How many times would she fell this day?

With a start, Canna remembered that she had not gotten here alone.

_King_.

In painstakingly slow movements, Canna managed to get onto all fours on the rough shore of the river.

Mere feet from her, lay Thorin Oakenshield.

Canna crawled – yes, crawled – to the dwarf till she was by his side. His eyes were closed, but he was clearly taking deep breaths.

"Oy, open your eyes," the maiden grunted, patting his cheek. "We are safe now. Open your eyes."

When the grey eyes, strangely soft, met hers, Canna could not stop herself from giving him a happy – albeit weary – smile.

"We are safe now," she repeated. She had no idea where they were, or how they would ever reach the Iron Hills, but still…

"We are safe."

* * *

**For those of you who have been giving me regular feedback (y'all know who you are), I never thought you would still be with me after all this time! **

**And the reviews I got, both from new and old friends, were so kind, you guys are really inspirational! Hence this chapter which I wasn't planning on working on until this weekend. **

**Hope you like it, let me know what you think! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

"We are safe."

Although her voice was raspy, he had not heard a more beautiful sound. She continued to peer down at him, a few scratches on her face and eyes that mirrored his tiredness, but otherwise she appeared uninjured.

With great effort, Thorin managed to sit up straight. Canna was sitting on her haunches, watching him.

After a moment, she softly said, "You should thank your horse, you know."

Both dwarves looked to where the black horse had laid down, huffing mightily from the exertion.

Thorin looked back at Canna. Water was still dripping down her hair, her face, her leather garb.

"Are you injured?" he asked, because he had to be sure.

She shook her head. "I am not. Are you?"

"Nay."

"Good."

For some time they sat there, facing each other, each lost in their own thoughts. Thorin looked around. He was unfamiliar with this area, which seemed completely deserted.

"Our best chance," he began, "is to follow the river upstream. Eventually, we will find the path once again."

Canna nodded but frowned. "Those orcs were organized. They knew we were taking this path. Could they possibly have spies watching the mountain?"

"It is possible; evil has many eyes."

"Ay."

With shaky legs, Canna stumbled to her feet. Every muscle in her body screamed for her to rest, but she ignored them with gritted teeth and stiffly walked towards the tired horse. The king's packs were still tightly harnessed to its body.

"We both still have our weapons," Canna mused. After quickly sifting through the supplies the horse carried, she sighed. "Some clothes, enough food for no more than two or three days. You should have packed better."

Thorin glared at the dwarf dam. "I assumed that the thirty soldiers _you_ trained would sufficiently protect us from such situations."

Canna's own blazing gaze met his icy one. "Do not speak with such disrespect! They have done nothing wrong; they performed their duty as they were ordered to."

But in her heart, guilt pricked at her. _Have I failed them? Am I the one to blame? _

Yes, her heart told her, yes.

* * *

Night fell rapidly as Canna and Thorin huddled near their horse for warmth and protection.

Thorin regretted his harsh words, spoken in a moment of bitterness. His companion and been silent since then, and as he recovered his strength, he lost his ire.

"Forgive me," he murmured softly to the maiden that was pressed to his side.

After a minute, she slowly responded. "I owe you my thanks, for not leaving me."

Thorin looked at her, startled. And then he remembered that she was used to being alone, fending for herself. "I would never leave you." His words were heavy with seriousness.

Canna did not reply. Much of her hair had fallen out of her braid and provided a curtain that restricted him from seeing her face.

Thorin was beginning to doze when he felt the shoulder next to him shaking softly.

His hand hesitated before gently pushing the curtain of glossy hair towards her ear. As expected, she was crying softly.

"Canna? What is it?" he said urgently. Never had he imagined that this maiden, this bold shield maiden, would cry for anything.

"It is nothing," she spat. The sniffles that followed weakened the venom in her voice. "Leave me be."

"Tell me what ails you." Seeing that she had not lost all her stubbornness, Thorin's heart softened, as did his voice.

It seemed to have an effect on Canna, for after a few more sniffles she admitted, "I am crying for my horse."

Thorin's eyes flew open. Surely he must have heard incorrectly; after all, he was pretty certain there was still water in his ears. "What?"

"My horse." Sniffle. "No one died, except my horse." Sniffle. "I know it is foolish, and I am no horse dam." Sniffle. "But…oh, I don't know!"

Mentally floundering for something to say in response, Thorin said the first thing that came to mind. "You are the last dwarf I would expect to shed tears…especially over a horse."

The soft sniffles turned into furious amber eyes pointed at him. "I do not know when I gave the impression that I have no heart, King Under the Mountain, but I am not so beastly that I do not mourn the loss of any good life."

It was dark, and Thorin was weary, and come dawn, eh would have to begin a very long journey to the Iron Hills, while avoiding a large group of suspiciously cunning orcs.

So all he said in reply was a muttered, "You are a contradiction." With that he wrapped his arm around Canna's shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"We are alone in a strange land, and we are both cold. I am weary, and I suspect you are as well."

Canna grumbled but did not move away. If he had looked down, he would have seen her amber eyes glance up at his face before softening, a puzzled grin on her face.

"I am glad I did not leave you," he offered before his eyes drifted shut.

"So am I."

* * *

Canna awoke to find her face pressed into long, thick black hair.

She had fallen asleep against King Thorin Oakenshield. Mahal certainly had a sense of humor.

As carefully as the dwarf maiden could, she separated herself from Thorin and stood. Her movements woke the horse, which snorted and struggled to his feet, which knocked Thorin over. With a start, he awoke to find Canna laughing at him.

"Enough," he grumbled as he also stood. Dwarf, dwarf dam, and horse all took a few sips of water from the river.

They were each chewing on a biscuit when Thorin remembered something. "You…where did you learn to swim so well?" he growled, almost accusatorily.

Canna beamed. "Do you envy me?"

Thorin rolled his eyes and did not condescend her words with an answer.

"I was born in a fishing village," Canna continued good-naturedly. "Water was as much my home as land."

Thorin acknowledged the logic of her words before standing. He held out a hand to assist her, expecting her to refuse it. As usual, she threw him off his guard by placing her smaller hand in his own. Quickly he pulled her up, accidentally using more force than necessary. The dwarf maiden crashed into his body before stumbling back.

"If you wish to spar, just say so," she muttered in annoyance. Although their outer clothes had dried, the soft shirts they wore under their armor stickily clung to them.

Thorin cleared his throat. "We will have a long journey today, and it is best we are comfortable. I…you may borrow one of my shirts."

For a minute Canna just stared at him blankly, but then a curious thing happened. At first Thorin feared that a sickness had come upon her, as her pale white cheeks turned dark pink, but then realization hit him.

Canna, dwarfish shieldmaiden and traveler of Middle-Earth, was blushing.

Perhaps this journey was not a complete disaster.

* * *

They were both a few meters apart and turned away from each other, but just the sound of ruffling clothing behind him was enough to make Thorin's blood grow hot.

For Canna's part, as much as she tried, she could not keep the blush from her face.

_Curses of pale skin_. The thin white shirt was indeed too large for her, running well past her hips, and with sleeves that dangled from her hands.

Without thinking, Canna turned around to pick up her leather armor and froze.

King Thorin Oakenshield was not wearing a shirt.

He was not as hulking as other dwarves, but his arms bulged with muscle and even his back was well-formed and strong, despite the multiple scars that scattered over it.

Canna had seen plenty of bare-chested dwarves in her time, so her reaction to the king astounded her.

_Perhaps it is _because _he is the king_, she mused. _Or perhaps it is our circumstances. Or perhaps I just hit my head one too many times_.

She chuckled at herself. The sound made Thorin turn around, and now it was his turn to stare.

His shirt may be too big for Canna, but its thin material allowed him to clearly see the outline of her body as she absently bent to grab her armor.

She may not fit the current ideal of dwarven beauty, but she was beautiful.

Canna glanced back up to see Thorin's eyes on her, his gaze heated with something that was not angry, but…something else.

Canna frowned. "What is it?" Now that he was wearing a shirt, her blush had thankfully subsided.

Thorin turned away and shook his head. "'Tis nothing," he growled. They quickly finished dressing and readied their rejuvenated horse.

"What is his name?" Canna asked as she rubbed the horse's snout.

Thorin scoffed, "How should I know? I do not have time to worry about such things?"

"Oh, and I suppose I should not bother to learn the names of those under my command either, for that is such a frivolous thing to learn!" she snapped angrily. No matter how handsome the steely-eyed dwarf was, his arrogance grated her nerves.

"You realize we would both be dead without this horse, do you? Should that not make him _worthy_ of a name, King?" she spat.

"Will you never learn respect?" he yelled angrily. It did not matter if they were lost in a deserted land; he was still king.

Canna threw his own words back at him. "Will _you_ never learn respect? Does being king give you the right to treat all others with so little civility?"

"You make me regret rescuing you."

With Thorin's words, both settled for simply glaring and ignoring each other as their damp clothes were packed away. Unaware to the other, both were thinking the same thought: how could they go from at least a caring relationship, to such anger in so short a time?

The day was very hot, and with the woods on the other side of the river, there was no shade in sight. But both dwarves silently decided to walk beside the horse, so the mount would not tire too quickly if they happened upon the orcs again.

Very soon, both dwarves were sweating under the blistering heat, but both plowed on. From the other side of the horse, Thorin snuck a glance at his comrade and again noticed how Canna's eyes remained ever watchful, but her face seemed much more relaxed.

Canna held the horse's reins and every-so-often gave the black beast a pat on the back.

Thorin fought with his pride for many minutes before finally acknowledging the fact that he would not get a better chance to learn more about this woman, and if his interest in her was fleeting or not.

"Where did you learn to ride a horse?" he asked at last.

Canna was surprised that the stubborn dwarf had been the one to break the silence, but she smiled at his effort. "We had a few horses in the fishing village, to pull the wagons when the men went to trade in the inner realm. My father taught me how to care for them, and later I met a stable-master in my travels. He was most willing to teach me, although I do not think he had ever taught a dwarf before. I am still no master rider, as you have seen, but I am fond of these creatures."

Thorin nodded. "Tell me of your travels."

"Oh, this journey may not be long enough then," Canna laughed. Still, she told him. Some of her stories were thrilling and courageous, some amusing enough to make Thorin laugh as he had not in many, many years. Other tales spoke of underlying pain and sadness.

By the time night fell, all were exhausted, but also content. As they drank from the river, Thorin was struck with the realization that, up till now, he knew relatively nothing about the woman he was so intrigued with. Perhaps it truly had been base desires, with the added effect of coming from one who did not treat him as king, but as a man.

But now, hearing her tell stories of her own past, Thorin felt he was finally seeing this maiden for what she was: vulnerable. She hid it well with her deceptive openness, her prowess, her wit, but truly she was in pain.

No dwarf could speak with a steady voice of some of her tales and not feel their souls torn apart. Thorin had only received hints – the careful avoidance of details during a story of a goblin lair, narrowed eyebrows when speaking of a Man's brothel that had caught fire.

They had no means to create a fire, so once again all three huddled together for warmth.

"I think I shall name him 'Hurin'," Canna announced suddenly.

Thorin started. "What?"

"The horse. If you will not name him, then I shall."

"Hurin?" The name sounded familiar to him, and he said as much.

"Ay, 'tis an old tale I learned in a Man settlement. Not a cheerful tale, but one that would not have occurred at all if not for the existence of Hurin."

"I see…" Thorin remembered reading of it from an old scroll when he was still prince. "It would have been better if Hurin had not been born; much suffering would have never come to pass."

"No, that is not so!" Canna exclaimed fiercely. "If not for Hurin, Turin would never have been born, nor his sister and wife. He would never have defeated the dragon, and many more would have died at the hands of that beast." As an afterthought, she added, "Much like you."

Thorin stared at her. With a roll of her eyes, the pale-skinned woman continued. "If your grandfather, Thror, had not existed, then it is true that Erebor would not have attracted such a wealth as to draw Smaug. But then all that has occurred since then – the defeat of Azhog, the death of Smaug himself – none of it would have come to pass, at least so soon. Many more would have died at their hands had they continued to live. Every tragedy is a double-edged sword."

Thorin absorbed her confident words like a dwarf parched with thirst; a wound he had not even known existed closed, some small burden was lifted from his shoulders.

"You," he murmured by her ear, staring at her face. Amber eyes gazed back at him with puzzlement.

"You…come here." And with that, he kissed her.

* * *

**Longest chapter yet! I'm pretty proud of myself. At the moment I'm trying to find a rhythm to the story that works with future scenes I have in mind! **

**I got so many reviews and you'll never know how much they motivate me. Thank you so much, truly. Let me know what you think!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

They had decided to ride the horse – Hurin, Canna kept reminding him – as their lack of food emphasized the need to hurry their journey. Canna sat behind Thorin, which was not to his liking, but he was in no position to argue.

At first she had refused to touch him, but when Thorin picked up the pace, she was forced to grab onto his forearms to avoid falling. Thorin wished she would grab his waist instead, but he was not about to complain. Hiding a grin, he flexed his muscles, feeling smug when Canna let go with a gasp before a jolt forced her to grab hold again.

There was a breeze in the air today, for which all were most grateful.

When they stopped for rest at midday, Canna lavished affection on the newly named Hurin, who seemed to appreciate the attention, if the way he nuzzled her cheek was any indication.

Thorin hated the beast.

She had not said a word to him all day, except to remind him that the horse now had a name. The silence between them was oppressive, and Thorin almost wished that orcs would appear so he could unleash this frustration upon _something_.

The scene from last night would not stop playing in his head. Was it playing in hers? Had she simply erased it – him – from her memory, determined to move on?

She was oh, so determined to lead her life on her own.

Without him.

* * *

_Her lips were soft, unlike her hands. _

_He pressed his own lips harder against hers, trying to convey the turmoil of emotions within him. His lips were moving, dancing against hers._

_But she was not dancing with him._

_Her body had stiffened, her eyes staring forward blankly._

_It was like kissing stone. _

_Thorin pulled himself away, his blood on fire. _

_Canna's face was blank, her eyes focused ahead. It was truly unsettling. Thorin waited with baited breath, for her to say something, do something, be something. _

_Before long she snapped back to her surroundings, and rounded amber eyes swung towards him. _

"_Why did you do such a thing?" she exclaimed. Thorin could not tell if she was angry, excited, or just shocked. _

_At any rate, her question threw him off-guard. "Why would any dwarf do such a thing?" he growled in exasperation. "You…I…I wish to know you better."_

_Could he be any more of a bumbling fool? Even Bilbo Baggins could speak more eloquently than this. _

_Canna, in the meantime, was clearly not impressed. Her voice was menacing and low, almost a snarl. "I am not one for dalliances, King; 'tis not the dwarven way, as you should know."_

"_Think you that I merely desire a dalliance?" Thorin hissed. "Am I so low in your eyes? I am a king, from a long line of kings. It is not in my blood to succumb to such base desires."_

"_So you desire…what, then?"_

_The words were difficult to speak, but Thorin forced them out anyways. None of this had been planned, but he was king; he did not run from strange situations. "I desire a courtship."_

"_And eventually a queen, I presume!" Canna was incensed as she sprang to her feet and began pacing in front of him. _

_Thorin opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. _

"_Truly you are the most arrogant dwarf I've ever known, and that is truly something! You hardly know anything about me! I certainly know nothing about you. I thought you despised me, or at least found me an annoyance. Why this sudden change? Am I to believe that this –" she gestured to herself, "– is what you approve of in a queen? _

"_I am no queen." Her voice had softened, but held more conviction than ever. "I am nothing close to royalty. I am a traveler; I do not wish to settle anywhere. And, dwarflike or not, I prefer the fresh air under the sun and sea to a life underground. Nay, I am as far from being a queen as you are from truly knowing me. I do not know what spurred you to do such a thing, King, but I advise you to control your lust and think no more of this." _

_Up to this point, Thorin could pride himself on keeping his temper in check. But at the word "lust," his blood boiled hotter than Smaug's flames. _

"_When did I ever say I desired _you_?" he roared, finally rising to his full height. Canna may be tall for a dwarf dam, but Thorin still towered over her. _

"_You look more like an _elf _than a dwarf. You have nothing to your name, not even a home. All you can call yours are the clothes you wear and your swords, and neither are of any worth. Truly, that _anyone_, let alone a king, made you an offer should be considered a blessing from Mahal. For you are insignificant; you are nothing_."

_No sooner had the words left his mouth than Thorin's blood, once boiling, promptly froze. _

_It is true that he had used such words as "insignificant" to in his thoughts of her while they were in Erebor; but to speak such things, especially to the woman he hoped to court, was low indeed. Not since his bout of dragon sickness had he behaved in a manner so unfitting a king, or even a dwarf. _

_Thorin closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and then opened his eyes with an apology on his lips. But Canna was no longer in front of him. She was laid down on the other side of Hurin, facing away from him with a rigid back and tense shoulders. _

_Thorin was not one to grovel, no matter how much he may be wrong. With a huff, he returned to his place. Hurin lay between them, peacefully ignorant of the tension between the two dwarves. _

_Thorin tried to lay down and rest, for tomorrow would be another long day, but his words hung over him like a dark cloud of disappointment. _

_With a growl, he sat up. He did not turn around to look at her as he spoke. "My words were ill-spoken. My tongue may not be silver, but my heart is true, and that is what I offer. I do not take well to refusals; do not think I will fall back on my plans so quickly. You will change your mind."_

_His sleep was angry and restless that night._

* * *

Hurin was the first to detect their presence. They were setting a quick pace when his nostrils flared and he halted abruptly. Canna nearly fell off, but managed to catch hold of Thorin's arm and regain her place.

"What happened?" she exclaimed.

"I know not," Thorin replied as he tried to calm the startled horse. Hurin continued to neigh and prance around loudly.

A feeling of unease settled upon Canna. Just as she turned her head to survey the woods on the other side of the river, an arrow sliced through the air and nicked her arm. With a shout of pain, Canna lost her balance and fell to the ground as more arrows fell upon them.

Although the wound was minor, Canna felt a sudden wave of nausea hit her. Her eyesight blackened and she felt more than saw a warm body hit the earth beside her.

'_Tis not fair_, she thought as she closed her eyes. _Poisoned arrows is not a fair fight_.

* * *

**I am truly very sorry for such a long wait and the relative shortness of this chapter; I've just been so busy. **

**But this plot is definitely going in the direction I want it to now. I can't wait to write the next chapters!**

**Let me know what you think, please! I know I haven't written a lot from Canna't point of view, but that's mainly because she's open about her feelings, especially now that she's outside the mountain. **

**We'll definitely get way more of her in the following chapters.**

**By the way, some of the insights you gave me from last chapter were amazing! Some of you were right on the dot, and others actually made me reconsider future plot points.**

**I can't wait to hear your opinion!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

* * *

Pain.

Canna was no stranger to it; the dangers of her way of living were too great. And she was a dwarf – it took more than danger and injuries to defeat her her.

Dwarves knew pain, and they knew danger, and they embraced it.

But if any dwarf had ever felt fear, Canna would not know, for they never showed it, or spoke of it.

So Canna too, would never admit it. She was a dwarf, after all.

Her eyesight was still dark and blurry, and her head rang like the horns of battle. She could make out the dark shapes of orcs swarming around them. Her wrists were tightly bound with rope, enough to numb her fingers.

They were all speaking in their harsh tongue of hisses and shrieks, and Canna had enough control over her mind to keep herself from groaning at the soreness in her limbs. It appeared to be past dusk from the lack of light, and they were still in the woods.

Her swords and sheaths were gone.

_I am afraid_.

A body was next to her, warm and heavy. She could smell fire and rust.

The King was by her, alive. And from the twitches of his muscles, he was beginning to come to.

_I am afraid_.

Either the king was in far more pain than she, or he was a fool, as evidenced by the groan he let out upon reawakening.

At once the orcs around them shrieked and huddled around them. Canna swore in her mind – truly, _this_ was why she was safer traveling alone.

She gave up the pretense of remaining unconscious and opened her eyes fully, to be greeted by the grotesque faces of the orcs as they hovered over her. Their foul breaths made her stomach quiver, and she resisted the urge to spit in their faces.

Beside her, the king was just now becoming aware of their plight as he gave a roar and struggled with the bonds that tied him. The orcs laughed and gibbered and kicked him in the stomach.

"No!" Canna yelled. Suddenly hands were on her form and she was hoisted to her – bound – feet. Now that she was upright, she could more clearly assess their situation, and what she saw did not bring her hope.

She could see as many as three hundred orcs, but she was certain there were more hidden away or scouting the area. What was worse, they appeared to be organized, as most bands of orcs were not. Their armor was strong and their weapons dangerous. If Canna had maintained any doubts that the first attack had been due to an unhappy chance meeting, she had them no more. These orcs had planned that attack, as well as this one. She could not yet see if their leader was here, but did know one thing: if they did not know the identity of her companion, then it was crucial that they not find out.

_I am afraid_.

By now Thorin had also been dragged to his feet. His eyes were red; Canna expected hers to be the same. The wild, desperate look in his gaze as he beheld her faded slightly. Canna gave a tiny nod.

They remained standing for some time, impassive under the sneers and hisses of the orcs. At length, a large orc with a strange symbol on his helm strode towards them.

"You must be the leader. The king," he hissed at Thorin. Canna started – it was rare to find an orc that spoke the Common Tongue.

Thorin was opening his mouth to speak. Canna was quicker.

"Nay, he is not. I am."

At once the orc's face appeared inches from hers. She could hear Thorin snarl a warning, but she kept her gaze forward.

"You? A female?" the orc sneered.

"Yes. I am Dis, sister of Thorin, Lady of Erebor. He –" she nodded in Thorin's direction "– is my guardsman. I demand you release us at once, you vile creatures, lest –"

Canna had expected the slap. That did not mean the pain was any less.

_I am afraid_.

"No!" Thorin yelled as he tried to lunge forward. He was stopped by three orcs and slammed to the ground.

"Enough!" Canna yelled, sounding as commanding as she possible could. Her eyes met Thorin's. His were pleading with her not to do this. Hers were assuring him that this was the right – nay, the only – way.

Canna was no fool; she understood the ways of the world as well as any other dwarf.

The cold truth was that, as much as she could deny it, the life of the king of Erebor was worth far more than her own. It was her duty to sacrifice her own life to save that of one on whom so many depended.

_I am afraid_.

"What is it you want?" Canna asked of the orc leader. At least, he appeared to be the leader. He was certainly the leader of this band of orcs, but whether he could muster such strategy, Canna remained unsure.

The orc leered. "If you are the king's sister, that is better. You send your servant to your king. Tell him we will offer your life in exchange for his own, or the life of his heir."

"No!" This time Canna and Thorin were in unison.

"Silence!" the orc replied. "If he does not do as we say, we will behead you and send your head to your king as a…present. He has no worthy army; we are too great in number. He will agree."

Canna swore – truly, this plan was well thought out. Although the king would never sacrifice his life or that of his heir, the beheading of the king's sister would spark great turmoil and unrest in a still-fragile kingdom. Canna supposed that, had they known that they had the king himself, they would have demanded the death of his heirs in return for his own life.

_I am afraid_.

"I am not afraid of you." Canna kept her head high as she boldly met her captor's gaze. "Send my guardsman to Erebor with the message. I am sure my brother will reply."

"And if he doesn't come to us within three days," the orc hissed, "you will be killed."

Canna nodded gravely, but frowned. "Even with no rest, my guardsman can not travel to Erebor so quickly."

The orc laughed, an awful sound, and then called out some order in Orcish. Canna's heart leaped in her throat when she saw two orcs lead a fighting black horse towards them.

Hurin was alive and unharmed. Hurin could carry the king to safety. To Erebor.

It took all her willpower to remain upright under the weight of her relief.

However, if they had kept Hurin, the orcs had thought ahead; that much was obvious.

Canna turned to Thorin. She considered speaking in Khuzdul, but knew that the orc would not allow that.

"Deliver the orc's message to the king. Travel quickly; do not stop until you reach the safety of Erebor. Live long and well. This is my ruling." Canna's voice shook as she spoke the last two sentences. King Thorin, son of Thrain, Lord Under the Mountain, would be the last dwarf she ever laid eyes on. For he would not return for her; no king would risk their own men, his own life, to save an inconsequential dwarf. Canna was no fool; she understood the world, far more than the king would give her credit for.

"Go! Do not try to come back!" the orc leader roared as Thorin remained unmoving despite having his bonds cut. His remained fixed on Canna's. Canna nodded and gave him as big a smile as she could muster. If her eyesight was blurred around the edges, she did not know why.

"Go," she whispered. With a jolt, Thorin gave an almost pained cry as he leaped onto Hurin and charged out of the woods. Just once more he turned around and met her eyes before disappearing from her sight.

The orcs now closed in on her, laughing and jeering.

"So," Canna murmured as she gazed upon their faces, "this is how I die."

_I am so afraid_.

* * *

**Well, what do you think? Were you expecting this? What do you think will happen? What do you think of Canna? Please let me know your opinion!**

**By the way, thank you, Stardurin1217, for reviewing so much as you read through this! It was really interesting to read what you were thinking as you were catching up with the chapters. **


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

* * *

It took less than a full day for the king to return to his mountain. Hurin – malnourished, exhausted Hurin – had nearly been driven to his death at the speed his rider pushed him to take. But the black horse seemed to sense his master's urgency, and that fury drove him to run faster.

And what a fury it was.

Thorin's mind and body were almost recovered from the effects of the poisoned arrows, but he could not think of anything past the look on Canna's face as she bid him farewell.

"_Live long and well," _she had told him. Pride, anguish, resignation, and something else – fear? Her eyes had brimmed with them.

As he rode, Thorin replayed every moment he had shared with her, from the first day she cheekily spoke to him in the Hall of Kings. He had judged her, belittled her, insulted her, and ordered her as if she were a slave. His words to her the night before they were attacked haunted him now. _"You are insignificant; you are nothing." _

And yet she had sacrificed her life for his without hesitation or a single thought for herself; she was so much more than any dwarrow he had ever met. She was more than worthy of being his queen. When he saved her, he would pursue her as he had promised; but never again would he injure her with words. Nay, he would treat her and speak to her with the consideration the woman he loved deserved.

And he loved her. Any doubts had fled him.

Guards, citizens, and friends closed around him as soon as he entered the gates, but he had eyes only for Balin and Dwalin who came striding towards him. Relief was etched on their faces.

"We received a message from Kili but an hour ago!" Balin exclaimed. "He told us everything. Thank goodness, Thorin!"

Thorin barely clasped their arms in greeting before he growled, "Assemble our army."

* * *

"Thorin!" Dwalin roared, slamming his great fists on the table before them. Balin had pulled out a large map, and Thorin had given them his best guess as to where the orcs had captured them. The rest of the Company had soon joined them, and all looked worried when their king described the numbers and organization of the orcs. Thorin had continued on, ignoring their doubts, until Dwalin had had enough.

"Listen to me! Such organized orcs would not simply wait for us to come to them. They will expect us to come in force. Nay, something is clearly wrong, Thorin; do you not see?"

"Why should it matter?" Thorin's eyes were red in weariness and rage. "We are dwarves! Any one of us can best well over a score of those, those…those filth! And while you argue with me, Canna's time grows near! We must leave _now_!"

The king's eyes narrowed. "If you are not with me, then stay. I will save her myself!"

"Thorin, enough." Balin's voice was soft, but a hint of steel had crept into his tone. "You forget that Dwalin and I have known her since she was a wee lass. Do not think you are the only one who cares for her."

"We all do," Fili spoke. "She is a friend, and our king's savior."

Thorin looked around him and sighed. "Assemble everyone we have, Dwalin. It will take time, and they must be ready to depart as soon as we have a plan."

Dwalin nodded curtly and jogged away.

Balin looked at the map in front of them in despair. "Truly, I am not sure how such a plot could have been planned without our knowledge. I fear this will not end well. How are we ever to find their location?"

"Perhaps I may be of some use, then."

The familiar voice had every dwarf in the room turning to the door, wide smiles and rekindled hope lighting their faces.

Even Thorin felt his determination resurge as he stepped forward to welcome his unexpected guest. "Gandalf."

"It appears I am not a moment too late," Gandalf said with twinkling eyes.

"Tell us everything you know." Thorin was in no mood for greetings.

"Yes, well. I have some disturbing news, of spies that have infiltrated the mountain. No, not dwarves, I am sure. I believe this is more of the kind of birds and beasts. Who controls them I know not, but it is certainly one of great power. Knowledge of your numbers, strength, and readiness for battle must be how these orcs were so well prepared. But, I believe I may know where they will take your friend."

* * *

It was surprisingly close to Erebor; an area within site of Dale. In hindsight, it was very strategic, as the orcs would be able to monitor the dwarves' movements without arousing suspicion.

Thorin did not care about any of that.

"What is taking so long?" he growled as he paced back and forth in the Hall of Kings. Balin stood watching him.

"Even Dwalin will need more than a few minutes to assemble our army," the advisor admonished. "And there is another matter as well…"

"I do not wish to speak of anything else. It can all wait."

Balin shook his head. "No, this pertains to our current situation, Thorin. Our people will not be willing to ride out to war for the sake of one dwarf. Many are just now come and settled. Not all know of Canna, and those who do are aware that she is little more than a guest here. Risking the lives of so many dwarves over one dam will not be looked upon favorably."

"What right have they to decide how I command my army?" Thorin was incensed. "I am the king! I have every right!"

For a moment his words echoed through the golden hall.

Balin tentatively broke the silence. "I remember the last time you spoke those very words."

Thorin sighed, feeling suddenly deflated. "As do I." It was in Laketown; although they had not yet reached Erebor at that time, Thorin considered that to be the first moment the dragon sickness touched him.

"What would you have me do?" he said wearily. "I love her, Balin. I _will _see her saved. If no one will stand with me, I will go myself."

"As admirable as that may be –" Balin's voice held a touch of sarcasm. "– I see no reason to make a martyr of our king. If you truly love her, then I suggest this. A few who have seen you and Canna have already speculated that you two are secretly betrothed. Let me spread such a rumor. That, as well as the story of how she sacrificed herself for you, will surely gain our people's loyalty. They would not see their noble future queen killed, if they do see her as such."

Thorin frowned. Even in his edgy state, a part of him realized that what Balin said was true. As a king, the goodwill and safety of his people as a whole came before all else. And while he had no objections to being called Canna's betrothed – indeed, he only wished it were already true – would such a lie hold in the future? How would Canna react?

_Nay_, Thorin internally scolded himself. _Such thoughts will be pointless if she is dead! You need an army, and your army needs a reason. Give them a reason. For her._

With that, Thorin stared down at the ground and gave a jerky nod. "Very well."

Why did his reflection, which stared back at him from the golden floor, look just a little guilty?

Within two hours the army was assembled, and a few rumors had already taken hold as to why. Ravens had been sent to Kili and Dain, telling them of the situation and requesting their aid as fast as they could make it.

The healers had worked frantically on Thorin, mending the arrow wound and forcing food down his throat. Thorin let them poke at him for no more than a few minutes before he left.

As Thorin stood at the gates of Erebor and observed his army, he felt a swell, not of pride, but of anticipation.

"I do not have a great speech prepared for you," he began. His voice echoed through the silent passage. All eyes gazed at him.

"I can only tell you this: the foe we face is not easy to defeat. They are smart, and prepared, and they hold one of our own in their hands. But, we are smarter. We are braver, and we hold the loyalty of dwarves within us! Let us upon them, and may they rue the day they ever laid hands on a dwarf!"

A loud cheer went up from his men.

"For Erebor!"

"For Erebor!" his army repeated.

And then one man yelled, "For the king!"

"For the king!"

That was when Thorin felt pride once again.

_For Canna_.

* * *

**Thank you all for waiting so long! Chapters will be up more regularly from now on. Let me know what you think, please! This was a bit rushed, in order to get to what comes after this, so any feedback would be so appreciated! **

**Thank you for reading!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

* * *

Gandalf was annoying.

Those words had become a sort of mantra inside Thorin's head ever since they had begun to move. It was only a half-day's march to the enemy's main camp, but because the mountain was easily in sight of the orcs, they could not cut a path directly to the enemy. One group would head towards the forest. This was a diversion, and Thorin hoped that they would capture the orcs' attention enough so they did not notice the rest of the army making their way around Dale, to attack the orc camp from the west.

Thorin knew the orc camp would be difficult to attack; these orcs were strong and well-armored, and their numbers were great.

But Gandalf had just grinned when Thorin questioned him. "Don't underestimate the friendships you and Canna have made. You will find that we are not as alone as you think."

Gandalf seemed incapable of giving a straight answer. Thorin was not in the mood for it.

This time Fili rode with him. It had been a heated argument, because no matter how important this battle was to Thorin, he was unwilling to risk his heir. Of course, Gandalf had stuck himself in the middle of their business and before Thorin could form another thought, Fili was determinedly galloping next to him.

"Do you know Canna?" This question had plagued the king since Gandalf had appeared.

The wizard glanced at the dwarf net to him. "I have never met her, no. But I know of her. We share a few…acquaintances, if you will."

Thorin pushed his horse faster, away from Gandalf.

He had not ridden Hurin; the horse was not in fit condition after his last adventure. Thorin's current steed, a sturdy chestnut dwarf horse, was more prone to tensing against his rider.

_Much like Canna_, Thorin mused. The dwarf dam would not leave her thoughts; nor did Thorin wish her to. He would not forget her selfless deed for as long as he lived. Mahal, he was riding his people into _war_ for her, and it seemed like the very least he could do. He had much to atone for, and the sooner Canna was safely in Erebor, the sooner he could begin.

Thorin and his men camped out at Dale for the night, having sent word to Bard. Bard had refused to send his own men into battle – which Thorin understood – but was glad to offer them shelter for the night. So the streets of Dale were soon lined with armored dwarves.

Bard, Thorin, Fili, and Gandalf all sat in Bard's home for hours, planning strategy. At length, a large raven appeared at the window. Thorin eagerly grasped the parchment attached to the bird's leg and opened it.

"What does it say?" an impatient Fili asked.

"Dain and his men are on their way, along with Kili. They have joined with the legion to the forest. As expected, there were orcs there. Those scum were waiting for a sign of royalty to begin their ambush, but Dain's men caught them unawares and together our people outflanked them. It was about two hundred orcs, all dead. Thirteen dwarves lost their lives."

"Anyone we know?"

Fili's question was casually asked, but Thorin could hear an undercurrent of worry and was quick to respond. "Nay, Dain and Kili are hale and will be hear by dawn, just in time."

Fili nodded and opened his mouth to speak again before closing it abruptly.

"What is it?" Thorin questioned gruffly.

Fili shot a wary glance at Bard and Gandalf and moved closer to Thorin before speaking in a low voice. "Uncle, I know that Canna has become a friend of yours, and her sacrifice is worthy of praise indeed, but never did I think you would risk the lives of our own dwarves to save her."

"I would risk _everything_ for her." Thorin's snarl and fierce expression left little doubt as to the truth of his words. "I plan to make her Queen of Erebor. Have you any objections to this?"

"Nay." Fili shook his head. "She is certainly brave and skilled, and beautiful in her way. I am surprised she has accepted your suit, though. She never gave any indication of such feelings for you before, Uncle."

"Enough! I will hear no more of this."

Bard grinned. "Well, Master Dwarf, little did I suspect that a woman had captured your heart. She must certainly be a jewel among dwarves."

Thorin glared at the tall Man before stomping out into the fresh air, the laughs of his companions hounding his retreat.

* * *

The greeting between Thorin and Dain was quick but heartfelt, a brotherly clasp of arms.

"You have my gratitude," Thorin murmured.

"From the rumors I hear, this lass is to be my kin soon enough! We Durin's folk are nothing if not loyal to our kin, Thorin."

They were ready. Together, Dain and Thorin stood at the head of their armies, flanked on either side by Fili and Kili.

The orc camp was barely in sight as Thorin waited for when the moment was right.

Before long a raven flew overhead, cawing out a warning.

Thorin smiled. "To war!"

_For Canna_.

* * *

**I know this chapter is short and long in the making. I'm sorry for not keeping my word about updating regularly! I've faced a fearsome opponent – writer's block. Hopefully once I start on the next chapter, I'll defeat it and really get working on this story again.**

**I've received a lot of PMs asking me for clues as to what will happen later on in this story. All I can say is, some of you are close to and some of you, not so much. I always respond to PMs, but I'm sorry that I refuse to give you guys any hints! It just wouldn't be fair to others. **

**Also, I feel like some people might be wondering by Thorin isn't as grumpy and fierce in this chapter as he was in the last. I believe that he is feeling confident in the fact that he is clearly not alone, as you can see by the way he is already thinking about his future with Canna, not whether or not he will actually save Canna. Might be getting a little ahead of himself there, if you ask me…**

**Let me know what you think will happen! **


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

* * *

Hope.

Of all the emotions, it was the most troublesome. It was dangerous to have, and horrifying to lose.

Canna knew that now.

She had never considered herself full of hope; she had always headed into new perils well aware that she may not live to see another dawn, or another kind face.

But now it turned out she was wrong. Like a silent leech, hope had lived inside of her all along. She just did not realize it until hope was gone.

In the first illusions wrought by her drug-affected mind, Canna entertained thoughts of Balin and Dwalin and _him _charging towards her captors and crushing them under the strength of their righteous fury. Or _he_ would send a covert group of skilled dwarves to steal her from the orcs in the dead of night.

After all, the very man who could now save her was the same man that had declared his intentions towards Canna not two days ago. Was that not reason to hope?

And then as the orcs began to carry her off to some place, and with the poison fading bit by bit, Canna regained clarity. Of course she would not be saved. She was one dwarf, and no king would risk the lives of so many good men for her.

After this Canna gave up hope.

She still fought her captors and struggled against them, but it was now a half-hearted act performed out of habit and principle. There was no realistic escape for her – she was poisoned, and bound, and without weapons, and greatly outnumbered by surprisingly cunning enemies.

The orcs stopped drugging her once she stopped fighting them, deeming her too weak. Canna briefly asked herself whether she wanted to be clear-headed or imbibed when she died.

There was no hope, so her answer came quickly. She resumed causing her captors trouble, and they resumed poisoning her.

Her hazy mind did not even react to the groping hands and frequent kicks and punches they dealt to her body.

Dying alone was truly miserable.

_I'm not alone. I have my dear orcs to see me off in my last moments_. It was a grim humor, and Canna did not laugh.

In an out of consciousness due to the lack of food and the beating her body was taking, the dwarrowdam lost track of the days, the hours, the minutes that passed. She did not even make note that they had stopped moving. Soon her captors would see that dwarves were not so foolhardy as they thought, and then her miserable end would come.

Never had Canna pictured this to be how she died.

True, dwarves were renowned for their intense loyalty and kinship. But they were not stupid.

Canna had known this, had known that she was not to be saved, when she had made the sacrifice.

_There is so much I have yet to do, and see, and feel. So much…_

A sudden burst of anger and energy pushed Canna into action. She fiercely fought against her bonds and threw herself at her captors, snarling and biting like a wild warg.

The next thing she knew, someone had knocked her down and kicked her in the head. Stars fluttered before her eyes as some foul-tasting plant was shoved in her mouth.

As her eyelids drifted shut under the drug's effects, Canna only prayed that she would not wake from this.

She did want to be awake for her own execution.

* * *

Clashing swords. Enraged yells. Screams of pain.

Sunlight…flashing steel…red earth...

Blood.

_If this is the afterlife, I do not want it_.

Canna let her mind drift away once more.

* * *

"Is she alive?"

"Why does she not wake?"

"Mahal, what have they done to her?"

Dwarves pressed against him as they all sought a glimpse of the dwarrow that had driven their king to war.

Thorin ignored their stares and questions as he staunchly marched to his steed. His grip on his precious charge never slackened. His eyes were focused forward.

Thorin's hair was matted with splattered blood, as was his armor. But if he had ever felt weariness on this day, it seemed to have disappeared.

There was only one thing on his mind now: to take her home.

_Canna. I have come for you_.

* * *

**I am aware of the hugely long wait. I also know that this chapter is not long at all. As for the wait, I'm so so sorry! I'd say it a thousand times if I could. **

**About the chapter length, I purposely kept it short. It fits with the rhythm and pace. Many of you PMed me asking about the big battle scene, but this is how I wanted to do things. **

**The pace of the story, as well as the tone of the characters, will change drastically from here on out. We'll see another side to Canna, one that you probably won't like at all. **

**Please PLEASE review, if you have time! They will push me to give a quick update and I take your thoughts and suggestions into consideration when writing this story. **


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

* * *

The battle had been bloody. Their only advantage had been that of surprise, thanks to Gandalf.

Still, even unprepared, these orcs were well-equipped and organized. The hostage had been moved to the deepest part of the alcove, with the entire orc army – at least four hundred strong – between her and the dwarf king.

At first, Thorin was able to maintain a clear head. He gave out clear commands even as he hacked through an orc's skull. Despite the bodies that hit the earth, the bodes of his people, Thorin kept his head. Dain fought beside him for a time before moving to assist other dwarves.

It was easy to pick him out as the king. Thus, he was the target for all the orcs. Knowing this, he had formed a plan in advance. Four hardy dwarves, fitted with mithril armor, moved before him with large shields raised in front of them. They were the King's Shield. Every arrow bounced off their shields, every sword thrust parried. With this protection, Thorin and his men had slowly made their way through the enemy ranks.

And then Thorin saw Canna.

Her face was so bruised there was hardly an inch of pale skin left. Her body was not much better. Her clothes were tattered. There was dried blood coating them.

Her eyes were closed. Her body was limp. She was tied up to a flag staff, held up like an offering to the vultures that circled above.

Thorin saw no color but red.

Later, Fili would tell him that the only sounds that came from his mouth were earth-shattering roars, and that he fought like one possessed. He nearly swung at his own men more than once.

And once again, he had Gandalf to thank for saving him.

In his mad state, Thorin pushed through the orcs more quickly. In his urgency, he left behind his King's Shield.

The orc that had led the group that had captured him and Canna, Thorin recognized him. He recognized him in time to notice the sneer on the orc's face as a large spear came hurling towards him…

Before monstrous jaws caught the spear in midair and snapped it like a twig.

"Beorn!" Fili shouted. The skinchanger let out a mighty roar before he barreled through the remaining orcs. Thorin followed after him with his own war cry, and his men quickly charged after him.

From the corner of his eye, Thorin caught Gandalf's smug smirk. He could not care less at the moment.

It was Beorn that tore apart the orcs guarding Canna. It was he that stood over her body and ripped out the innards of any who tried to take her.

Suddenly, Gandalf urgently yelled for Beorn. The bear glanced at Thorin who was charging over, before nodding and galloping away. Thorin skidded to his knees by the limp dwarf dam as his men surrounded him protectively. By this time the remaining orcs were fleeing.

With shaking hands, Thorin took Canna into his arms. He did not set her down until they reached home.

* * *

Balin was waiting for them at the gates. Others flocked behind him, but he walked straight to Thorin. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Canna.

"Oh, my dear lass…"

Dwalin ordered the men to see to their injuries and take rest, promising them a sumptuous feast for their bravery. Then he, the rest of the Company, Dain, Gandalf, and Beorn made a path to the healer's wing.

Balin had instructed Girin to have one cot prepared for Canna. Thorin reluctantly placed her down and made to take a seat on a nearby stool.

"Nay, my King," said Girin, "while I see to her, you must also be attended to."

A quick inspection showed no serious injuries, though Girin glanced over and frowned at his old wound, the one given to him by Azhog.

"'Tis fine," Thorin grumbled. "How is she?"

Girin tuned back to his newest charge and sighed. "There is a poison in her system, which slows down her body's healing. That she refuses to awaken shows that they drugged her heavily. She has a few broken bones, but this and all her other wounds will heal in time…but only if the poison can be drawn from her body. I will do all I can. Now –" here the elderly dwarf glanced at all of them, "– leave this place, unless you have injuries to attend to. As you can see, we have no room to spare. I will send a messenger if her condition alters."

Everyone slowly squeezed their way out of the crowded healing wing. Only Thorin, Balin, Beorn, and Gandalf remained.

Balin turned to Thorin and lowered his voice. "What we discussed before," he murmured, "is done. Should you still intend to proceed as planned, the people should support you."

It took a moment for the king to recall the conversation they had before he set out. He nodded and gave a weary smile. "Thank you, old friend."

Beorn growled. Even in his human form, he had to stand at a very bent angle to fit into the dwarven space. "Gandalf, you _will_ send word to me when she awakens," he ordered. Gandalf acquiesced.

"Now, I'll return home. There's the stench of orc and dwarf everywhere."

With a nod to Gandalf and a strangely soft look at Canna, Beorn ambled out.

Gandalf now rummaged through his robes and pulled out a small pouch. "I thought I would give you this small bit of the plant they used as poison. These are old specimens, but they should help you." With these words, he handed them to a grateful Girin.

"Thorin, Gandalf said with a pause. "Beorn and I were unable to catch the orc leader. It is likely he will return with another small army. My work will now turn to discovering him. Until then, remain wary. Bard already pledged his support, to send word of any sightings. I sense a lingering darkness out there."

Thorin stared at Canna's unconscious body. "Many dwarves died today. Many more suffer." He waved his hand at the neighboring cots, all full of injured dwarves. "I want him found. I want him dead."

The wizard sighed and turned to Balin. "Now, my dear Balin, if you could point me towards a spare room, I would be much obliged."

Now only Thorin was left, and he refused to leave Canna's side. Her bruised and bloody face tore at his heart. How could there have ever been any doubt in his mind that he loved this woman? This woman who would sacrifice her life for his without a moment's notice.

Watching him, Girin chuckled.

The king glared. "What?"

"Just like your father and grandfather are you, my King. Durin's line is known for how quickly their hearts are given."

Thorin wanted to strike the old dwarf. "How dare you!"

"My King, I meant no insult. It is simply the truth. Now, you must rest elsewhere. There are many more to attend to, and even the stool you sit on is needed. Worry not," he added when Thorin opened his mouth to protest, "I will send word if there is any change in her. Rest, my King."

"Oin can sit with her for a time," Balin noted. Oin, who was attending to a wounded dwarf in a neighboring cot, looked up and nodded. "Come, Thorin."

Thorin's every instinct forbade him to leave Canna's side, but seeing the line of wounded men being forced to stand around him, he stood up. As carefully as if he were kissing a newborn, he pressed his lips to Canna's forehead. Her skin was hot to the touch.

"Take care of her," he ordered with a ragged breath, before turning on his heel and storming out the doors.

* * *

It was days later when Oin came running into the Hall of Kings.

"She is waking!" he cried out.

Thorin had been sullenly languishing on his throne, when Oin burst in. At once he was on his feet and, casting off his heavy cloak, he followed after Oin at a run. Balin, Fili, and Kili were fast on his heels.

Canna's bruises had begun to heal over time, and her outer wounds had been stitched together. But the sight of her amber eyes, blearily peeking out from under her eyelids, had Thorin heaving a sigh of relief and joy for the first time in days.

_She is awake. She is alive. She is here. _

If anyone saw the lone tear escape from their king's eye, they were silent.

* * *

Her eyes hurt. Her head hurts. Her entire body hurt.

_Where am I?_

With all her strength, Canna cracked her eyes open and regretted it. She closed them again.

"Open your eyes."

A vaguely familiar voice.

Curiosity filtered into her mind. With more strength than before, she forced her eyes to open a bit more. This time the light was not so blinding. Eventually it dimmed enough for her to make out an elderly dwarf's face peering into her eyes.

Canna tried to speak, but her throat was not cooperating. All that came out was a strange croak.

The old dwarf smiled. "Welcome back, my Queen."

* * *

**This is to make up for the short chapter from yesterday. I got a PM begging me for a battle scene, so I stuck one in there. There are some important things in that battle that will come up later, so I couldn't skip the scene even if I wanted to.**

**So, I've gotten a few PMs instead of reviews, asking me why I don't respond to reviews. First off, I always, ALWAYS appreciate reviews and remember who sent each of hem. If there is a consistent reviewer, I end up going to their profile to see their stories. However, if you want to start a discussion about this story, then PM me, because I always respond to PMs. Either way, feedback is so important for me; it helps me shape this story to be better.**

**Lastly, did any of you catch the little surprise? **

**Please please PLEASE review! I am not above begging, since they are so important to me and to this story. **


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

* * *

The next time Canna woke, she was once again surrounded by faces.

She tried to speak and found her voice raspy from disuse. Her body felt sore all over. "What happened?" Her words came out as little more than a whisper.

Girin smiled kindly. "You fell into sleep again. No more than a few hours this time. That is to be expected; your body is still healing."

Fragments of memories were entering her head. None were pleasant, but Canna slowly pieced together the past. Her and Thorin attacked by orcs, lost for a time, captured, and then…pain.

She was supposed to be dead. Clearly, something had changed that.

Canna wiggled her fingers experimentally, and slowly lifted an arm to point at the floor. "Erebor?" Her voice was a little clearer now.

"Yes, lass." Now there was a voice she knew well. The dwarf dam turned her head to her other side, where Balin's worn face smiled at her. His eyes were shimmering just a bit.

"Balin." Canna attempted a smile of her own. "You look…tired. As always."

The elderly dwarf gave a shaky laugh.

Girin once again commanded her attention. "You must rest, my Queen. You have been through much."

"Do you ha–" Suddenly, Canna froze. "You called me…"

Girin's face remained serene, but a sliver of confusion entered his tone. "My Queen. For that is what you are." Then his eyes widened before he relaxed. "Of course, not yet. But soon. And from what I hear of your exploits, you are a most worthy queen, my lady."

The headache was back in full force, but Canna could only think to push herself up on the cot, ignoring the various worried cries around her as well as her own body's protests.

"Why are you calling me that? I am not your queen! I am no one's queen. What game are you playing?" A mixture of confusion, irritation, and mild panic swirled inside Canna, making her stomach clench with a sticky feeling she only got when she sensed a great evil near her. She felt like vomiting.

She did, on Girin's feet.

"Canna."

That voice. _Him_.

The pale dwarrowdam grew yet paler.

Her body could no longer keep her upright and she fell back onto the cot.

Girin moved away and a taller, broader form took his place.

"Canna, please."

When had that voice ever sounded so soft? What was happening?

"Canna, look at me."

She did not reply; she did not want to.

Balin stood. "Let us give them some space, eh?"

Canna heard him usher everyone, even Girin, out of the healing wing. She missed the piercing look the advisor sent _him_.

"Balin, stay."

Balin hesitantly moved back to his seat on Canna's other side.

_He_ cleared his throat, sat in silence for a few moments, and then sighed before taking Canna's hand in his. She flinched, but he did not let go.

"What happened to me?" Her voice was strong now; strong and angry.

"You…saved me. I repaid the debt."

Only now did Canna turn her head to look at him. What she saw caused her to hastily pull her hand away from his. His eyes, blue and usually steely, were more tender than she had ever seen them. There were a few healing scars and bruises on his face, and he looked more haggard than she remembered him being.

She took all this in before remembering that she had yet to reply to him. "You should not have done that. I did not expect you to. It was very foolish."

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Perhaps it was, but I do not regret it. Just seeing you here, awake, is reward enough."

What was she to say to that? She did not know. Unbidden, the memory of him confessing his feelings for her arose. So did her reply to him. Canna felt her pale skin flush.

"My dear girl." Balin spoke now. His voice was much warier. "You are safe, thanks to Thorin and others. But there was a…a deal…a deal was made, to ensure it."

Her was hurting, so much. "I do not understand. What deal?"

_He_ sighed and straightened; Canna turned to him expectantly. The stickiness in her stomach was back, along with a sense of foreboding.

She saw a similar fear in _his_ eyes as he struggled to speak.

Finally, he took a deep breath a plunged in. "You are my betrothed. Soon, you will be Queen of Erebor. It was necessary, to motivate our people to battle. That was the deal."

Dead silence.

And then black.

* * *

When she next opened her eyes, she was in a much softer bed, in a dark room. Her body was hardly better, her head much worse.

_What a nightmare_…

"Canna."

_Nay, not a nightmare_.

She growled. "You lie. I am not your queen. I will not be!"

He moved closer to her and spoke. His voice sounded…she was not sure? Sad? Fearful? Desperate?

"This is not how I wished to do this either. But it is the reason you are here, alive!"

"I do not _want_ to be, if this is my life!"

He scrambled back as if she had struck him. But now that she had spoken, she could not stop. She struggled to sit up in bed once more. "_You_! You manipulated us all! You use my _life_ as a means to chain me to you, and you dare to speak as if you did it for my own good! I will _never_ marry you! Never! Ne–"

Canna was cut off by a hacking cough. A worried Thorin moved to assist her, but she slapped him away with what little force she could muster. He was left to anxiously watch as over many minutes, the coughing subsided.

Her throat was sore now, and her body weak. But not her will. "Get out. Get out now. And tell your _precious people_ that if they wish to kill me, they may do so. It is better than to live as a prisoner! Get out! Get out _now_! _Now_!"

She could not stop her screams long after he was gone.

* * *

**I did warn you that from now on, we would see the not-so-cool side of Canna. I can understand where she's coming from, but when I was writing this, and writing what comes ahead of this, I couldn't help want to slap some sense into her myself. **

**Tell me what you think. Any feedback, good or bad, will be so so appreciated!**

**I would also like to take this time to thank Hobbitpony1 for sticking with me from the beginning and always giving me feedback! Readers like you really do motivate me ****. **

**I hope you enjoy it! **


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

* * *

Canna's body healed quickly, but her heart and mind did not.

It had been a week since she had first woken. Every morning and evening, the King entered her new large chambers. She soon found that they were traditionally the Princess's chambers, where the future queen would live until the marriage.

She wanted to set fire to the whole room.

The King was unfailingly polite; bereft of the temper he was known for. He never raised his voice, never stepped too close to her, and never spoke of their betrothal. And yet, his blue eyes stared at her with so much desperation and gentleness that it made her sick. She refused to say a word to him; every morning and every evening, he left a little more dejectedly.

No others had been permitted to see to her except Girin and the servants.

_Am I to be a prisoner, then?_

As soon as the healer permitted her to begin standing, Canna pushed herself to regain control of her body. At first a servant was always stationed in her room – "for your comforts," Girin had said mildly – but after Canna had thrown one too many plates and utensils at him, the King graciously gave her complete privacy.

Once she was left to her own devices, Canna began exercising. It was exceedingly difficult; the drugs had weakened her body considerably, and it had been some time since she had walked on her own feet; her muscles screamed out at the renewed burden of it all. But the pale-skinned dwarrowdam was angry, and her anger fueled her determination. After one day she was able to take a few steps without falling.

A little over a week since she had first woken, Balin came into her room. There was a hesitancy in his eyes, similar to what she saw in the King.

The comparison irked Canna. "So, has the embargo been lifted, then? Am I to assume that I am allowed to speak to you, or is that not permitted?"

"Enough." His suddenly icy tone made her freeze.

Seeing this, Balin shook his head and mellowed. "My dear, I understand that this is not your wish, that we have changed your life without your consent. But do you not _see_? It took an army to rescue you. An army! Good dwarves, most with families, and few of whom had ever met you, were ready to give their _lives_ for yours! Thorin knew thi– do not look at me so, lass, this will not be the last time you hear his name. He knew what needed to be done to save you. Do you think he does not suffer? Was it easy for him to willingly sacrifice his own people for you?"

"I did not ask him to." Canna's amber eyes shone like fire. "I had accepted my fate. I did not ask him to save me. You cannot convince me that I should be grateful for something I never asked for. I will not go through with this _farce_. I leave Erebor as soon as I am able. You cannot stop me."

Balin started, then sighed. "I should've known…_This_, this is that side of you I thought had gone for good. I cannot say I missed it much, either; Canna, I loved your parents, and I love you almost like you were my own. But my loyalty is with my King. And yours should be too; regardless of the cost, he risked everything, risked _himself_, to save your life. His intentions were the best, and I will not tolerate this selfishness of yours. You will not bring Thorin Oakenshield so low. I will not see him humiliated in front of his people. More than that; I will not see him broken by _you_. There will be guards posted at your door as long as need be, till you accept your fate. I stand by my King, and you will not break him."

Balin spun on his heel and walked away, white head held high. As he opened the door, he impulsively turned back.

What he saw in Canna's face caused him to slam the door shut and nearly run away, a little of his own heart breaking in the process.

* * *

Balin did not visit her again. But true to his word, there were more guards posted outside of her door.

Canna still pushed her body to return to its old state; she worked until her knees gave out and she fell to the floor in a panting, sweating mess.

Dwalin was the next to see her. Canna could not tell whether his brother had relayed their last encounter; he only spoke of her injuries as well as the army's.

"More dead than we thought; but we were not expecting those numbers of orcs. How so many could slip past us and get so close…we will need to send out more spies from now on. I believe that Man, Bard, will agree to aid us with that; it's obviously for his own people's good as well."

Canna listened to it all with mild, almost detached interest. Since Balin's visit, she could not look at any person, friend or stranger, without the knowledge that none of them would side with her in the current situation. She was living in a mountain with more dwarves than she had ever seen, and she had never felt so alone.

At some point, Dwalin realized that her silence was not due to avid listening, and he fully took her in. Thinner than before, but fit. Dark circles under her eyes, skin paler even than usual.

Dead eyes.

A shiver crept up his spine.

"Canna…you are not a prisoner here. If anything, you are receiving the highest honor. Have you not received the gifts the people have been sending you?"

Yes, she had received them. No, she had opened none of them.

"If you leave now, all dwarves will know it. No dwarf will look upon you kindly again; you will receive help from none of us. And that would hurt me more than it ever hurt you; to see the young lass I met when you were a tiny little thing…do not do this, Canna."

There was desperation in Dwalin's voice; for a moment Canna thought of opening her mouth. But then there was a knock on the door, and the moment was broken.

* * *

That evening, Canna was ready for the King to enter, as was his wont. He chose to take his dinner with her, despite the cold and oppressive silence that his future queen bestowed upon him.

Instead, Lord Dain entered, with clinking armor and a presence that seemed to envelope the entire room.

Canna was so stunned she forgot to glare.

"So," his voice boomed across the walls, "You are the dwarrow that has stolen my cousin's heart." He looked over her, pausing on her face. "Cannot say I have ever seen you before, but there is something…never mind. I hear many stories of you in these halls. Dwalin tells me you are a sound warrior. Good! Thorin will need someone who can challenge him in all ways. What you did–" his voice lowered, and he stepped closer to her bedside, "–sacrificing yourself for him…I owe you a debt. He is one of the last of my kin; almost like a brother to me, he is."

Canna felt something like guilt for a moment, but just a moment; she remembered Thorin's words to her before the incident, and the invisible chains he had shackled her with afterwards. She was chained to this mountain, and everyone assumed she should be thankful.

With fury in her amber eyes once more, Canna focused on Dain, words ready on her tongue.

And immediately she was stymied by a huge hand that was held to her face, stopping her from beginning her tirade.

"I also hear some other rumors." The king's voice had taken on a distinctly ominous tone. "They say you are _unhappy_ here. They say that you are too wild to be queen, and that you will leave him as soon as you are well again. I hear many things in this mountain."

Knowing it was not wise to do so, Canna nonetheless stared back at him defiantly. She refused to honor him with speaking.

"So it is true…"

She remained silent.

Dain hovered over her now, and Canna suddenly realized that even as she got stronger day by day, this dwarf lord could snap her neck with a flick of his wrist.

"I was going to remain silent, but now I have no choice." His voice deepened, his breath felt on her cheek. "Your mother was Yarra, daughter of Garron. His father was Gorvo, son of Gishael. Gishael was executed for selling his peoples' secrets for a large sum of jewels…his treachery was mostly forgotten, because it was discovered in time to avoid the consequences to others. But it was still recorded, and it is held in the archives in the Iron Hills."

Throughout his speech, Canna's eyes had widened, her face blanching. By the end, she was trembling ever so slightly.

Dain continued, ignoring her plight and even seeming to relish it. "If you do not wish to dishonor the name of your mother and father, of your entire family, you will not run from this mountain. You will not humiliate my cousin. You will do your duty, and accept the honor. You will do this gracefully. I protect my kin, at whatever cost."

Without waiting for her answer, he strode out.

Her hands would not stop trembling.

She did not sleep that night.

* * *

**This update has taken some time because it has honestly been a hard chapter to write. Every day I added a bit more, and each day I changed some of the things I wrote before. I hope you are satisfied with the results.**

**THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the reviews! I loved how some of you sided with Thorin, and some sided with Canna. It was honestly what I was hoping for, and I'm curious to hear your thoughts after this chapter.**

**We'll get more of Thorin next chapter, but Canna needed this chapter to herself.**

**Please review!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

* * *

When Dain approached Thorin as he was on his way to see Canna for their usual tense dinner, the King Under the Mountain had impatiently asked his cousin to speak to him later. Every minute he spent with Canna was torture, but he craved it now. Seeing her broken body heal back into its former beauty was worth every hate-filled look she gave him.

But then Dain had said "I went to meet her myself, but she was asleep. Best not to disturb her" and Thorin had felt the pain of dashed anticipation.

"Very well, then," he had grumbled.

However, upon seeing Canna the next morning, something was different. For the first time in…he could not even remember…she had smiled at him. It was the most painful smile he had ever seen, more of a twisted grimace, but it was there. She still did not speak to him – oh, how he missed the sound of her voice! – but at least it appeared she had had a change of heart, and was willing to take a brighter view of her situation. So happy was he that he hardly noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

Thorin had walked out of her room with a handsome smile on his face. All those around him noticed his jovial mood, including Balin and Dwalin. Both came to see him in his study around midday.

"What is it that's got you in such a mood?" Dwalin asked.

"Since when could a king not be in a good mood?" was Thorin's gruff reply, but it was said with a grin.

Balin exchanged a look with his brother before speaking. "Have you seen Canna this morning?"

"You know I have."

"How is she?"

"Her wounds are healing well."

"And…her mind?"

"…Better. For the first time."

"Ah, I see." But the elderly dwarf looked more confused than anything. "I wonder what brought this about."

Thorin glaced up from his seat, surprised. "Have you spent no time with her?"

Balin looked down at his feet and sighed. "Not since the first time, I'm afraid. She was in no position to hear what I had to say, but I said it anyways. I do not regret it, but that does not mean I donn't feel a pang in my heart."

"The same happened with me," said Dwalin, shaking his balding head.

"I told the others to leave her be, and allow her to rest," Thorin wondered with a frown. "Perhaps she is feeling lonely; I will send Fili and Kili to her later today. Perhaps it was wrong of me to think she would not want company."

"Oy, what is this I hear? Thorin Oakenshield admitting to wrongdoing?" Dwalin's eyes twinkled.

"That's enough," Thorin snapped. But his voice was not as harsh as it could have been. "Back to work; tell me about these trade routes..."

* * *

Kili and Fili reported to Thorin; telling him that Canna had looked wary, but had been pleasant. Balin had taken them aside and warned them not to mention the betrothal; advice they heeded. In return for their avoidance of the subject, Canna had slowly warmed up to them again, and by the time they left there had been a small smile on her face.

Balin was very confused by their report, but he allowed a small glimmer of hope to persist.

Thorin was pleased with what his nephews had to say, and eagerly entered Canna's chambers for dinner.

To his confusion, she looked weary, almost as if she was in great pain. But when he worriedly asked after her health and injuries, she shook her head. She still would not speak to him.

Thorin watched her slowly eat. He was mildly surprised that her body had not lost much of its muscle tone after a long period of inactivity. Most of her bruises had faded, leaving her skin white and smooth once again. Still, her long black hair hung limp and dull. So did her eyes. And while Thorin cared not one whit, there was a noticeable smell in the room.

"Are you well enough to be escorted to the baths? Or a t-tub can be brought here, if you wish." The king had not meant to stutter, but the sudden image in his mind of a wet Canna lying prone and relaxed in a tub of steaming water was enough to make him shift uncomfortably as he stood.

Luckily Canna did not seem to notice. She nodded; a moment later her eyes widened upon the realization that the dwarf lord did not understand which option she had agreed to.

"The baths."

She had spoken. At long last, he heard her voice. It was not as rich as he remembered, but it forced a large smile onto Thorin's face. "I will see that it is taken care of for tomorrow."

Canna's mouth twisted into frown, but only for a moment, before easing back into its smooth impassive state. She nodded, and said no more.

* * *

Balin was on guard as he entered Canna's room, but the dead eyes that stared back at him gave him a start.

She spoke first, turning her head away. "I will not try to escape. You have my word."

To say Balin was caught by surprise was an understatement. After a minute of silence, he spoke slowly. "I am glad. But I am curious; why this change?"

He was torn between wishing he could see her turned face, and fearing what he may see. She did not turn, but she did speak. "I do not have to tell you; is my word not enough for you?" Small cracks in her voice betrayed the emotions that she did not show.

Balin was suddenly filled with a strong foreboding. It was not worry for his king, but for her. Something was wrong.

But then the dead amber eyes were on him again, mere traces of pain and anger lingering in them. "Leave me now. I am tired."

Balin felt sick.

* * *

**I know the ending may sound strange, but that's because I want you to really focus on that last sentence; I hope those three words convey the feeling I want to get. **

**I LOVED the reviews I got from the last chapter; thank you all so much! It was just what I was going for – some of you were staunch supporters of Canna, some were on Thorin's side, and the rest were somewhere in the middle.**

**Please let me know what you think of this chapter! An early Merry Christmas to you all!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

* * *

The water embraced her like an old friend, soothing her body, mind, and soul. Canna let out a great sigh, feeling her muscles relax for the first time in days. The water steam rose around her in a cloak, and she finally let down her guard and delved into her dark thoughts.

Her night after Dain's visit had been sleepless. Her mind had gone in circles, her insides clenching. If she chose to escape, there was no doubt in her mind that Dain would make good on his threat. He would protect his cousin and say that he had kicked her out of the mountain upon discovering the truth. Her name would be slandered; never again would she be able to seek the company of a fellow dwarf.

People would curse her mother and father's names.

Of course she had known her lineage. A year before their demise, her mother had taken her aside and quietly explained it to her. Very few knew of or remembered their traitorous ancestor, but the striking features of her mother's lineage were too conspicuous. Canna had been too young to understand the implications of such a relation at that time; she had only wondered at the injustice of dwarves thinking ill of them for the deeds of an ancestor she did not know.

She had known to keep her mouth shut, and after some time she had all but forgotten the conversation.

For Dain of the Iron Hills to throw it all in her face had opened wounds she did not even know existed. Only now did she truly understand why her mother had been so cautionary in her tale. A dwarf's lineage held the pride of the entire family; dwarves valued their pride above their very lives.

Canna felt the weight of such a burden fall on her shoulders; it was not just her, but her parents whose honor she must now protect. Her kind mother, and her courageous father.

In the end, had there ever been a choice?

She would sacrifice her own pride for that of her family's legacy.

Not only was she shackled by Dain, her free life was ended. Never again would she trapeze through dark forests, wander into unknown villages, or fight Middle-Earth's evil as she had trained herself to do.

_Was my entire life a waste of time? All that I lost, and gained, and sweated and bled for…it is all over._

Canna let the hot water slide over her face. Strangely, it tasted like salt.

* * *

Canna felt much more refreshed as she went back to her room, clean at last. The soothing water, coupled with the release of her pent up emotions, had been a catharsis of sorts. Her guards encircled her; they had prepared a hammock of sorts to carry her, but Canna had staunchly refused. Only after proving that she was strong enough to walk without collapsing, did they acquiesce.

There were countless eyes on her; she could feel them. She supposed it was understandable; she was to marry their king, and she had not been seen for many days now. Not all the dwarves looked on her with a kind eye, either. Some of them were simply curious, but others were downright hateful. Canna met their eyes unflinchingly. She did not know why they felt that way, and she did not care. She did not care about anything anymore.

Then a thought struck her. _Perhaps they know about my ancestor…did Dain tell others? _

Suddenly, Canna realized that there was one thing she still cared about – her family's name.

_If I am to give up…everything…for this, I will not have it be in vain!_

And just like that, Canna felt rejuvenated by the determination that comes with having a goal.

Her years of travel had taught her how to listen to the conversations of others while keeping the appearance of minding her own business. She put the skill to use to listen to the crowd around her while still walking forward with her head held high.

Anxiously she listened for words like "traitor," but she heard none.

She did, however, hear other things. Some dwarves were curious.

"Is she really a dwarf, for sure? Never seen one like _that_."

Others were full of contempt.

"Pah! It is not right, our King wedding this dam. Who are her parents? What does she know of how to run a kingdom? She is not worthy of the title, or our King."

"Me brother and son went to battle for her life. I lost me son, and me brother – you know him, Gharod…yes, with the large feet – his leg is in a bad state still."

"I lost my brother too, all for _her_. We died for her, and she locks herself in her room for days and ignores us! Worthless queen, she'll be. Mark my words."

Having agreed with the old dwarf's last declaration, Canna said nothing. It was the voices of praise that bothered her the most, after all.

"So beautiful! And she sold herself to the orcs without a second past!"

"I heard she tricked the dwarves into thinking she was Lady Dis, and they thought our King was her servant."

"We owe her much. A worthy sacrifice."

"A worthy queen."

Canna quickened her steps to the safety of her room.

After her isolation, hearing what others had to say about her was jarring. She did not mind the hate, and the curiosity was annoying but justified. It was the admiration that bothered her.

_No one should have died for me. That does not make one worthy_._ Why did they agree? Why do they not rally against their king for wasting their lives?_

Canna knew that had she been a warrior of Erebor, it would take more than the story of a dwarf saving their king for her to risk so much bloodshed. She had not wanted to be saved, knowing that many more would die. She was worth _nothing_; certainly not the lives of other good dwarves.

Finally reaching the silence of her own room, Canna took a deep breath. The bed's sheets had been changed, and the entire room had been aired out somehow. It seemed that the stench of her uncleanliness had been stronger than she anticipated.

Newly focused on a goal of her own – the preservation of her lineage's honor –the pale dwarf dam felt rejuvenated. The darkness that had enshrouded her mind ever since she had woken in Erebor had only gotten worse after Dain's visit. It had nearly suffocated her. Thinking back on it, Canna cursed herself for being so weak-willed. Dain and the _king_ of this accursed mountain may have chained her to this kingdom, but she did not have to bow down because of it.

She was giving up her _all_ for this; they would feel her retribution, and fear it. In time, even Dain would see that she was not worth the trouble. She would gladly be kicked out of Erebor, as long as she could still take her family's name with her.

With this newfound determination, Canna went to work.

* * *

She had worked up quite a sweat when Girin entered her room. There was no point in hiding it; she accepted his reproofs with indifference.

"I am healthy and I mean to stay that way. Keeping me chained like a corpse to that bed will help no one."

The elderly dwarf shook his head and sighed. "Are you in any pain, my Lady?"

"Do not call me that."

"Forgive me."

"I am not in any pain." She did feel slightly dizzy, but he did not need to know that.

"Nonetheless, I still must see to your health. Will you allow me to examine you?'

Canna shrugged. She did not like Girin; he had been the one to wake her from the lull of death and into this nightmare she was now living in. He was almost as responsible for her predicament as _him_.

However, the weight of Dain's threat rang in her head. If her new plan was to work, she could not openly antagonize Girin.

"Very well." Having grown used to his examinations, Canna took off her tunic and stood in front of the dwarf in nothing but breeches. Those soon came off too.

To the healer's credit, he hardly blinked an eye and calmly examined her from head to toe with a critical eye.

He pronounced that her body was indeed well healed, although she would bear these scars forever. Canna almost laughed at that; her body was already riddled with faded and ugly scars. They were a tribute to the battles she had won. For a male dwarf, they were marks of honor. Not so for a dam; but Canna did not believe that. She knew that many thought her "exotically beautiful"; if they saw her like this, they would cease such thoughts.

While Canna was sunk deep within her own thoughts, Girin was examining the area around her naval and suddenly frowned. Without warning he pressed his fingers into the scar of a jagged cut that began from her right hipbone and ended at her navel.

Canna gave a hiss of surprise, and when she looked down to see what had his interest, her eyes widened.

_I had forgotten_…

Girin took notice of her reaction with narrowed eyes. "How deep was this wound?"

Canna's mind raced with panic. _He suspects the truth. What will happen?_ But then, just as quickly, another voice spoke in her mind. _He will find out regardless. It may work in your favor_.

Canna sighed and spoke at length. "Very deep."

"How did you get it?"

"Orc knife. Serrated blade."

Girin continued to run his finger along the scar. Canna wanted to squirm so much her lips quivered, but luckily, the return of her willpower allowed her to remain still as a statue.

"Someone must have healed you." It was not a question.

The dwarrow dam nodded. "A Man, from a village. He was their healer."

"Did he tell you anything…?"

"Yes."

"How long ago?"

"Two years, twelve days."

"Do you know what this wound means?"

"…I do."

* * *

Thorin fell back into his chair with a thud; his mind was spinning, his eyes saw stars, and his throat was constricted.

"Say that again," Balin ordered, his own mien one of immense shock.

Girin clasped his hands and bowed his head. "She was injured two years ago by an orc blade. She was healed by a Man and managed to survive. But the blade had pierced her womb and to repair the damage to that is beyond the skill of any healer I know. Simply put, she…she cannot bear child, my King. No…no heirs."

Thorin could not have replied if he had wanted to; his ears were clouded by the sound of arrows piercing his chest.

Balin alone seemed capable of speech. "Did she know of this?"

"Yes, the Man who healed her had told her."

"_Leave us_." Never had Girin heard his king speak in such a menacing throne, and he was quick to bow and make his way to the door. Just before he opened it, the king spoke again. "You will tell _no one _of this, on pain of death."

The healer's eyes widened before he disappeared from the room.

Alone with his closest friend and confidante, Thorin began piecing his thoughts together. "I do not know what I am to do, or feel, right now."

"'Tis only natural," said Balin shakily. His mind had been elsewhere. "Two years ago…Thorin, do you remember, when she first came to Erebor? I told you that she had changed drastically since I had last seen her. I had wondered what brought about such a change."

Thorin only had the energy to nod and wonder where this was going.

"I believe we have our answer."

* * *

**There you have it! I have been waiting for AGES to drop that last bombshell, ever since I began this story. Tell me your thoughts!**

**Many of you will wonder at how Canna rebounded seemingly so quickly. When you think about it, it hasn't been so quick. She had over an entire day to wallow in her misery, but the wonders of water and the release of her emotions does wonders. Also, she's been stuck inside the room of doom for a long time. Just leaving that room must give her some fresh perspective. Besides, dwarves are not ones to take things lying down for long. She's still a dwarf, even if she is unconventional in other ways. **

**Also, I'd like to talk about Thorin for a moment. You guys seem split on this. Those who are on Canna's side think he is just lusting after her. The greater portion of you, who are in the middle or on his side, see him as being genuinely in love. It is neither, yet. He is not wholly bad, but nor are his feelings pure. I've tried to hint at him still being attracted to her beauty, hope you've caught it.**

**Thank you all for the reviews! I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter. **


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

* * *

His steps were slow and measured as he made his way through the long passages of the mountain. Luckily for him, few were awake at this time, and he was largely unhindered in his walk. He was in no state of mind to talk to anyone right now; except for one.

* * *

Canna heard the even, controlled knocks on her door. _Rap rap rap_.

Who it was, she could not be sure. But she had been expecting this; of course Girin would not keep quiet. His loyalties belonged to the mountain, and the one who ruled it.

* * *

"Come in."

Despite the late hour, her voice was clear. Perhaps she had been waiting for him.

One guard pushed the door open for him, but Thorin did not hear it shut behind him. His attention was held by the slender figure before him.

She stood up straight, her shoulders tense but her face relaxed. Her cheek was still faintly marred by a yellowing bruise. Amber eyes were fixed on his face.

For the first time in many days, she spoke first. "I did not think it would be _you_."

* * *

He seemed a bit surprised, by the way his steely blue eyes widened.

"Who did you expect?"

She thought for a moment. "Balin. Perhaps even Girin, or Dwalin."

"I see." He really did.

"If I expected you, I would have expected you to come storming up and breaking down my door." She smiled, but he did not.

"I wanted to."

"Alright."

He took a deep breath and squinted his eyes shut, collecting himself. Everything he had rehearsed before coming here seemed a distant memory, hard to recover.

When he opened his eyes she was still there.

"You know why I am here."

"Yes."

* * *

While the king was taking a moment to himself, so was she.

Having admirably recovered from seeing him come through her door, Canna now wondered what he would say. He certainly seemed calmer than she had expected.

Would he release her?

After the events of her capture, Canna had learned her lesson about hope; she viciously squashed it away now.

No matter what he did to her, she was assured of herself in this one thing. This self assurance led to her current relatively relaxed manner.

At last he spoke. "You told no one of this when you came. Not even Balin."

She rolled her eyes; he wanted to find some way to blame her. "It is not something you speak of in casual conversation. And it _is personal_. To me."

* * *

Thorin flinched; what she said was true. He had known this before entering; having thought on the matter for hours before coming to see her.

"I expected you to be…less forthcoming," he admitted, watching her face for any sign of emotion.

He saw none. "Why? I am not bothered by this. You deserve it."

An arrow through his heart would have hurt less. Thorin stumbled back, leaning against the door for support.

"How can you say that?"

A part of him did not want to hear her answer, sensing what was to come.

* * *

She could not believe he asked that. Did he really not know? Was he so oblivious to what he had done to her?

_Let me educate him_.

"You have chained me to this mountain, this kingdom…to _you_. Knowing I did not want to? Do you think I have forgotten the words between us, before I was taken? How did I go from being _nothing _to becoming your queen?"

Canna felt her voice rising, and did not try to force it down. This was not even a _grain_ of the anger within her.

So she continued, with a sneer twisting her lips. "I give you my word that I will not try to escape. But now this–any plans you may have had to breed heirs out of me are gone."

* * *

Thorin's first instinct was to charge at her with righteous fury.

He ignored this instinct; but the pain in his voice remained.

"That was never my plan." At her surprised look, he grinned humorlessly. "No, indeed. I already have worthy heirs in Fili and even Kili. They are as much my sons as any child that I might beget."

He took a deep breath before speaking again, while closely watching her face. "In fact, the thought of us producing heirs never once crossed my mind."

* * *

Her mind reeled, and she knew it showed on her face.

On the heels of confusion came suspicion. "You may say this now, to save face."

* * *

He could not help but laugh bitterly. "Save face from who?"

At the grudging acceptance on her face, Thorin continued after a moment. "I…I am sorry." He watched her amber eyes widen, and continued with more strength. "This was not how I wished to…this was not it. But your life is worth more to me than anything."

The flame was back in her eyes. She looked ready to spit out words once more, but he stopped her by taking a step forward and puffing out his chest. With his head held high, and his eyes cold, he was every inch King Under the Mountain.

"Hear me now. What's done is done. We are betrothed, and there will be an official marriage in one month's time. You have given me your word that you will not run from this. This is to be your new life. You will accept it with the dignity and honor that a queen needs. You will not embarrass Erebor or my line."

* * *

Not it was Canna's turn to feel the arrow pierce her heart. Every word he said seemed to be carving itself into stone. His words would be written on her tomb.

* * *

He saw her face pale further, and her eyes freeze, and her hands grasp at the air, and softened.

With a far gentler voice, he began, "But now this –I will –"

"Get out."

* * *

She repeated the only words her mind could form. "Get out. Get out. Get out! Get OUT!"

* * *

**Tell me your thoughts! I tried a different format for this chapter; I understand that it may have made things hard to keep up with. But I thought it kinda fitted with the whole back-and-forth thing. **

**PLEASE let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading and (hopefully) reviewing!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

* * *

The wedding date was announced the next day. Canna heard it from the guards gossiping outside her door.

Yesterday had not gone as she had thought. For a few minutes that night, she had held more power than the King Under the Mountain. For a few minutes, she had been in control.

But then he had found his arrogance once more, and her real lack of authority was thrown in her face.

After a night of restless sleep intermingled with dour thoughts, Canna had finally reached a conclusion. She had given her word – to her family, Dain (unofficially), and to _him_. Escaping was not an option anymore. She regretted making such a promise in a moment of flippancy, but her pride refused to allow her to ignore her words.

But Canna would not make this easy. The argument of last night had woken her up, in a way. It was truly, deeply, bone-shatteringly exhausting to be depressed all the time. She was Canna, daughter of Arbon and Yarra, warrior and traveler of Middle-earth.

She would not be powerless.

With newfound determination, she had set out (accompanied by her guards) for a very early bath before asking to be led to the library.

_I may be surrounded by dwarves, but I am still alone. No one else will take care of me but me_.

Canna's first order of business was to ascertain if there were any records of her ancestry in Erebor. She would not sacrifice herself if it would all be for naught.

It was hard enough to find relevant tomes, but Canna began to curse her own lack of education. Her reading was painfully slow; even when Balin had tried to teach her many years ago, she had somehow been unable to grasp the art of reading. Writing was almost worse. Combining her lack of talent with a severe lack of patience had led to vehement protests on her part.

How she regretted that now!

But many hours later, Canna looked up and realized that not once had she thought of her miserable situation; so focused had she been.

Feeling more cheerful than she had since–well, she did not even remember–she asked her guards to escort her to lunch in the great halls.

All four of them formed a square around her that she was getting used to.

"Tell me about yourselves," she said kindly as they walked.

"My lady, we should not distract ourselves from our duty. Any lapse on our part could mean danger for you," a gray-haired one she assumed to be the eldest said gruffly.

Canna scoffed. "Deep within Erebor, on the way to lunch no less, you expect a few orcs to come at us? Where could they be? Perhaps behind that column over there? Or are they waiting in ambush underneath the tables?"

She caught smirks on two of them and counted that a victory. Certainly, it felt good to talk to other dwarves, strangers though they may be.

Something very important crossed her mind just then. She immediately spoke. "Are you discrete?"

All four guards stared at her, and the grey-haired one again answered. "What do you mean, my lady?"

"Do not call me that, and you know what I mean. You have been with me, or close by, every minute of every day. At least it feels like it. If you see something, hear something, or I tell you something, who will hear about it?"

From the looks on their faces, she could tell they were uncomfortable with her question.

The grey-haired guard–probably the leader, since he kept speaking for the others–answered after a few steps. His rough voice was slow and measured. "We are ordered to keep anything we see or hear to ourselves. Fear not, my lady; not even our wives will know."

Canna took a deep breath before asking the most important question. "Then your allegiance is to me?"

If she thought they looked uncomfortable before, they seemed absolutely distraught now.

The Grey One, as she decided to call him, looked a bit irritated as he answered with "It is to you, my lady. But it is to the King, your _betrothed_, before all else."

They walked in silence after that.

* * *

Going to the halls had been a spontaneous decision on Canna's part. She regretted it as soon as she entered.

The hall was well filled, but all chatter stopped as the people noticed her standing in the entrance. Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin watched her with wide eyes from their places at the head of the table.

Snapping himself out of his stupor, Thorin quickly rose to his feet, followed by everyone else doing the same. "My lady," he said, his rich voice loud enough for Canna to hear in the silence. He turned to a servant nearby and snapped, "Bring a suitable chair for the future Queen. Place it by me. Quickly!"

Belatedly, Canna realized her situation. The last thing she wanted to do was sit near _him_; she would much rather sit at the other end of the table, between the carvers and tinkerers. But such an open spite to the King would be viewed unfavorably by everyone here, and surely her life would be made even more miserable for that.

As she was often reminded, these dwarves were loyal to _him_.

Canna slowed her steps to watch and listen to the dwarves as she passed. Many of them smiled as they bowed to her.

Others were openly curious as they appraised her. The pale-skinned dwarrow glanced down at her own garb and grinned to herself. Plain breeches, soft boots, and a white tunic, with her hair in its customary braid.

_How queenly of me_.

But then she began passing the middle area, where soldiers and their families typically sat.

They glared at her. Many did not bother to bow, and some openly scoffed and looked away.

Having sat with some of these same men before she had left the mountain, Canna was momentarily confused.

And then she realized what was happening.

_Many of them died…they died for me_.

Any cockiness she had felt at placing the King in an awkward position fled like a hunted rabbit. In its place came shame, and she quickened her pace.

A rather ornate golden chair, studded with emeralds and rubies, had been placed next to the king's throne. Canna gingerly sat down, most conscious of the many eyes, favorable and unfavorable, upon her.

"I did not expect you here," Thorin began, looking down at her with soft but wary eyes.

Canna attempted to regain her equilibrium by tilting her chin high. "I know."

She felt Balin and Dwalin look at her, but neither spoke. Thorin leaned in closer to her and murmured, "How are you feeling?"

"Just fine." At the moment she felt anything but fine; shame and self-consciousness were seeped into her veins.

_How could I have forgotten them? _

Thorin made a reply, but Canna was not listening anymore. Her eyes were drawn back to the men and women in the middle of the table. The warriors.

In their cold gazes she saw the unspoken words.

_We did not want to die for you. But we did_.

Canna quickly reached for her glass of malt beer and downed it in one go, raising her cup for more.

There was nothing she could do from where she sat. She could only drink and return their gaze, hoping that they saw in her eyes the words she could not say.

_I did not want you to die for me either. I am sorry._

* * *

**Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for the reviews I got from last chapter!**

**If you think Canna's return to spirits is too sudden, just remember that she is NOT back to normal. Her argument with Thorin sorta woke her up and reminded her that she needs to take care of herself if she's gonna make this work at all. She still has her family's pride and honor to worry about. She's still more-or-less hating Thorin right now, but she's starting to come back to the world and realize that she can't only think about herself. **

**Please PLEASE tell me what you think!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

* * *

Bolstered by Canna's appearance at lunch, Thorin knocked on her door for dinner with some eagerness, only to find that she was not there.

The guards posted at her door dissipated his immediate panic, explaining that she had gone to the library. He thought of seeking her out there, but thought better of it after remembering their argument from the night before.

At lunch, she had been strangely subdued. It was as if she had forgotten her anger with him, for she was distractedly civil when he spoke.

Thorin had only to survey the dwarves at the table to find out the reason. While he bristled at their disrespect, he could not chastise them. They had every right to grieve, and to grieve in any way that made sense to them.

Surely, he of all dwarves had no right to tell people how to grieve. His grief had nearly led to his own death, and the deaths of his friends and family, more than once.

Since the wedding had been announced, there was much to do.

First thing that morning, Dis had stormed into Thorin's chambers as he was buttoning his robe.

"One month? Thorin, you cannot be serious! I have done as you said and left your bride alone. Never mind that it has been nearly a month since she returned, and she has barely even shown her face to the people! She is not royalty; Thorin. She does not know what it means to be a queen; someone must teach her. Why do you hide her away like this, Thorin? Why?"

"Dis," he had growled, "do not lecture me. I know what I am doing, and she is still healing."

A scoff was his reply. "If she is too weak or cowardly to come out of her chambers once a day after all this, then she is not the dwarrow I thought she was."

"Sister, you will remember your place!" Thorin had stepped closer to her, meeting her dark brown eyes with his own blue owns. He still had not recovered from the events of the night before, and felt close to cracking. Realizing this, he had closed his eyes, stepped back, and taken a deep breath before speaking again. "She has been through an ordeal the likes of which you will never know…and I hope you never do. Her body may be healed, but there are scars that the eye cannot see. You and I know this better than any other."

Dis had backed down at his words, a bit sheepish. However, she had stuck to her words. With a softer voice, she had said, "I am aware of that, Thorin. And I understand. But why, then, would you have the wedding in only a month's time? Like you said, we all carry wounds that may never heal. We all have memories we would rather forget. She is to be Queen of Erebor; she must be ready to fulfill that role when the time comes. I am not unhappy with your choice; I liked her when I met her, at that celebration. She had no airs, and she was certainly pretty enough. But that does not excuse any unpreparedness on her part. She is physically healed; she must now learn what it means to be your wife."

Thorin vacillated; everything his sister said was true. But how could he tell her the truth about him and Canna? That she despised him, and they were not truly betrothed before she had been taken, and that he still feared that she would be gone one morning?

_She cannot know_.

"I will see what arrangements I can make," he said at last. It was a compromise, and they both knew it. Dis nodded her head and gracefully changed the subject after that.

"The wedding has been announced, but are there any outside the mountain that you or she wish to have here? She should have some friends here, and as king you must consider this diplomatically as well."

Thorin sighed; this conversation had already wearied him, and the day had not even started yet.

"Certainly Dain, and whoever he wishes to bring with him. We should invite King Bard, I suppose; and…Thranduil. It will give Kili a chance to see his she-elf, at any rate."

Dis had beamed at his words. "What a lovely idea! Kili will be pleased."

Seeing the morose look on Thorin's face, she had chuckled and hugged him close to her. "Do not look so glum, brother. All will be well, you will see."

Thorin could only pray to Mahal that her words were true.

* * *

Between that strange lunch with Canna and his disappointing dinner without her, there had been much to do. Erebor was rebuilt, and now that all practical installments had been added, he was free to embellish his halls as he wished.

At one time he would have gladly decorated the walls with gold and gems, but no longer. That did not mean that he wanted to hide his wealth; his people had every right to see what their hard work had accomplished. So after ordering a few embellishments to be scattered around the mountain, Thorin was brought back to the business of his wedding.

What should be a joyous topic instead caused pain in his heart, when he thought of his unwilling bride.

Balin, too, had been confused by her sudden appearance at lunch. He later met Thorin in the study, where Kili and Fili were speaking to their uncle. Upon seeing the serious look on his advisor's face, Thorin had sent his sister-sons out.

"Thorin, we must prepare for this wedding. Regardless of…of her feelings…it is too late to go back. We must conduct this as befits the King of Erebor."

Thorin sighed, but nodded. "I agree, Balin. I already sent out invitations to Dain and the other kingdoms this morning. Since the announcement was made, the hall and food are already being prepared."

"And I have no doubt all that will go splendidly," said Balin, "but there are other things to consider. The Queen's room must be prepared, preferably to the Queen's tastes. I doubt she will be giving much input, but we must try. Her wardrobe too…she must dress as befits a queen. I feel that Dis would be best left in charge of that."

Thorin just nodded, uncomfortable with the current subject. "I will let her know. She does not know the…she does not know the truth, Balin. I fear what will happen when she speaks to Canna."

Balin sighed, his twinkling blue eyes a little duller than usual. "Yes, I can see your point. But it must be done, Thorin; you cannot separate Canna from everyone else forever. She caused no trouble at lunch, despite her sudden appearance. Perhaps we are looking for the worst in her."

"You may be right, but there are already those who do not approve of her, despite knowing of her sacrifice. If they find out the truth, there will be a great uproar. We have only just rebuilt Erebor; I will not see this mountain tainted by civil unrest."

"Then what is to be done?"

"I will have Dis visit Canna, but only after I have spoken to them both myself. I will arrange for it to be done tomorrow. Balin, stay in charge of the general preparations, and alert me whenever a response to the invitations arrives. There is another thing…"

"Yes?" Balin asked, when it looked like no word was forthcoming from his king.

Thorin met his dear friend's gaze and drew resolve. "Dis spoke to me this morning, about educating Canna about the Queen's role. I fear she may be right. But I cannot do it."

Balin shook his head. "It should be my duty, or Dis'," he replied sadly, "but there are risks with having Dis teach her, as you pointed out. And as for me…I fear she will not see me. She is much like you once were, Thorin; never forgiving offences, and taking them most personally. And yet, this task is too important to ignore. I will try to speak to her, and see what must be done."

With that, Balin left to perform his duties, and Thorin had a moment to himself. The silence felt strangely oppressive. He knew that his mood of late had been unpredictable; he was either brooding, or energetic. And it all depended on Canna; seeing her made him happy, but her words cut him like an ax.

But not seeing her was almost worse.

_I love Canna, but she will not have me. She is to be my wife, but I cannot trust her. She is to be Queen, but I do not know her. _

It was going to be an excruciating month.

* * *

**Thank you so much for the reviews! Please let me know what you think of this one! **

**I understand if it as hard to keep track of the timeline. The entire chapter takes places on the same day as the last chapter: we start with dinner, and then flashback to the morning and afternoon.**

**Please review! I eagerly look forward to your comments. And another big thank you to HobbitPony1, who is an incredibly loyal reader AND reviewer!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

* * *

In hindsight, she could not believe that she had spent so much time in that room without losing her mind.

_Or maybe I did_.

She had walked up to the door, opened it as usual, and frozen. The lavender walls seemed darker, the smell of the chamber ominous.

After hastily informing the guards at the door that she would be in the library instead, she had turned and almost jogged to the library.

Away from the room that held nothing but dark memories, she found solace in the confines of the large and slightly stuffy room.

There were a few scribes here; dwarves were not well-known as scribes, but there were some who chose the profession. Like all dwarves, they took great pride in her work.

When she had been here earlier, they had all bowed and left her to her own devices. However, she had seen them occasionally glance at her when they thought she was not looking.

They repeated the ritual now, watching her from a distance. She did not mind so much, but they did make her all the more self-conscious about her poor reading. She was comfortable around warriors, soldiers, and travelers: not book-beards, as they were occasionally called.

The events of lunch had not left her mind yet. She still felt the nagging shame within her.

_How could I have forgotten them? Dwarves I sat with, and ate with…how could I not enquire after them?_

With piercing embarrassment, she arrived at the answer. _I was too wrapped up in my own misery to leave my room, much less think of others. What have I become?_

The tome in her lap remained forgotten, her amber eyes glazed over as she reconstructed her own behavior of the last weeks.

Certainly, she had just cause to be angry. Her life, albeit an unconventional one, had been one of her own will. It had been snatched from her, and her future was no longer decided by her. And yes, those she considered friends had abandoned to to side with the King.

But that did not excuse her own selfishness. She could not ignore the loss of lives on her part. Good, brave dwarves had died for her. No matter that she did not wish for such a thing–the fault for that lay at the King's feet.

But what was done was done, and it was her duty to honor the dead, for they would not be dead if not for her.

If her mother and father were alive, they would be ashamed of her. Her behavior had brought dishonor to her family, and certainly to her own name. How could she–

"My lady?"

Broken out of her thoughts, a startled Canna glanced up, only to see a familiar face.

"Darun! What are you doing here?"

"I am taking my shift on your guard, my lady." His friendly face was furrowed in concern. "Are you alright?" he murmured.

"Of course, why would I not be?"

"Well, my lady…your eyes are…well…"

Canna reached for her eyes only to find them wet. So were her cheeks

"Well…" She laughed nervously while quickly wiping her face on her sleeve. "That is strange. Perhaps it is the dust."

Darun nodded, if only for her sake it seemed. "Yes, perhaps. Capt–I mean, my lady, are you not hungry? It is time for dinner."

Canna looked surprised. "Oh." Having grown up aboveground, she was still unaccustomed to keeping track of the time when there was no visible sunlight. "Truly, I am not very hungry. I would much rather remain here."

"Very well, my lady."

Another guard, also new it seemed, spoke up. "My lady, if you do not eat we may find ourselves in trouble. Please."

Canna felt the familiar surge of irritation, but clamped it down. _It is time for a change_.

"We would not want that. Let us walk to the kitchens and steal an apple or something."

No one smiled.

_What a dour bunch_, the dwarrow thought, regaining some of her former humor. _The Grim Guards; that is what they are_.

"My lady, there is no need for that; one of us will go and fetch you whatever you need."

Canna let a bit of her annoyance show through this time, as she carefully placed the tome aside and stood up. She was still dwarfed by these burly guards, but she did not care. This was a position she was familiar with; she knew how to handle soldiers.

"Understand this: I am not some dainty dam. I will go where I want, and aside from accompanying me, you need not do anything else. You are not my servants. And I am not _your lady_. Call me Canna, please."

They all looked distinctly uncomfortable, except for Darun.

She rolled her eyes. "I can make it an order, if that is how you prefer things. You are all soldiers, yes? I once trained some good soldiers here." She shared a small smile with Darun. "So what will it be?"

"I-if-if that is what you wish, my la–Canna."

Canna grinned at their discomfort. "Fear not; you shall not get in any trouble for it. If you do, tell me at once; I will set things straight. Now, which way to the kitchens?"

* * *

Canna was grinning when she returned to her own chambers. The cooks and kitchen maids had been downright terrified to see the elusive future Queen of Erebor waltz into their abode and ask for an apple.

After collecting themselves, they had tittered around her, making enquiries the answer to which Canna was sure would be known throughout the entire morning by the next morning. She did not mind; there was surely no harm in the people knowing that frosted banana pie was her favorite food.

As soon as Canna reentered her chambers, though, she felt as if she was doused in cold water. She really hated this room now. The very air felt oppressive, and she was again reminded of her abominable behavior.

_To think, I chose solitude in this room over seeing the faces of_–

"My la-Capt-Can…m-my lady?"

Recognizing the voice, Canna spun around and swung her door open. "Darun, of course you decided on the only wrong answer."

He smiled awkwardly for a moment, but then cleared his throat. "May…may I come in?"

"Of course," Canna replied with surprise, stepping aside for him to enter. She slowly closed the door behind her and watched as her former trainee shuffled into the room.

"What is it?" she asked a little impatiently after some time.

At last, Darun turned and faced her fully. Despite being a large and bulky dwarf, his face exuded kindness. Round ruddy cheeks, gentle brown eyes, and a thick brown beard. He did not stand out, but those who knew him liked him greatly.

"When we reported to the King, the other guards told us what you asked them. About allegiance."

Canna's face grew worried, and then stony. "And?"

Darun rung his hands together and looked down at the rug. "I know that I should pledge my utmost allegiance to the King, and I do! But…but I pledge even more allegiance to you."

Canna's eyes widened, and she could do nothing but stare at him and blink. "What?'

Having gotten the words out, Darun stood straighter and spoke more confidently this time. "I pledge my true allegiance to you, Captain. You taught me what I needed to know to survive battle, and this post pays well. But more than that…you saved my son. I have not forgotten, you see. At great risk to yourself, you saved my wee lad. For that, I am forever in your debt."

He took a deep breath and spoke once more. "I pledge my allegiance to you, Captain."

There was only silence for a moment, but then Darun found his large hands enveloped by two smaller, white ones. And he looked down into a pair of shining amber eyes in a pale face flushed with happiness.

"Please," she said in a shaking voice, "call me Canna."

* * *

As she slid into the large bed, she mulled on how much of a difference it made to know that there was one dwarf in this mountain that was on her side.

_One friend makes a world of difference_, she noted to herself contentedly. The burden of loneliness was still there, but it felt significantly lighter now. She may have lost many friends close to her–a pair of twinkling eyes in an elderly face crossed her mind painfully–but she had gained another, one that probably had no idea what his support meant to her.

Of course, there had been a dark moment even then. Canna had playfully asked him, "Why did you not eat anything while we were at the kitchens?"

He had gravely replied, "Well, Cap-Canna, I thought it would not be right. The kitchen folk were not prepared for our visit, and it probably threw them off their work. They recovered soon enough, though."

Canna the same shame she had felt earlier in the day return. _Again, I only think of myself, and ignore the feelings of others. Changing myself will be harder than I thought_.

To Darun she said, "You are right; I should not have done that. It was wrong of me."

"Oh, no, no! They seemed excited, once they got over the shock. You are somethin' of a mystery around the mountain. I bet the King keeps you such good company you never leave this room for it."

His words were spoken with a grin and a twinkling face, but Canna's face become dark as a storm.

"Never," she spoke in a deadly low voice, "speak of _him_ to me."

Darun had left shortly afterwards. Canna regretted the way in which she spoke, but she did not regret saying that.

_Do not think I have forgiven you, Thorin Oakenshield_.

* * *

**I'm pretty proud of this chapter! Next chapter will have Thorin, and then Dis visit her. **

**So Canna is definitely aware of her selfishness, and you can see her start to make amends for it. That lunch scene was game-changing moment for her. **

**That doesn't mean she has forgiven Thorin, or even Balin and Dwalin. **

**I feel like things are more balanced now. Canna is aware of one of her greatest faults, and now Thorin needs to see his own. He will take more time, though. While he did not want to force Canna into this, as we know, he does not understand the full extent to what he has done to her. That's really because he does not understand her fully. **

**Please PLEASE tell me your thoughts! Feedback is so helpful, and I love and remember every reviewer of mine. **


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

* * *

Canna's sleep was more peaceful than any she had had in awhile. So she was still muddled when she was woken from her slumber by a knock on the door.

"Enter," she called out blearily, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

The door opened and in slipped Thorin Oakenshield. "Forgive me, I did not think you wou–"

When he caught sight of her the words seemed to freeze on his lips, and his eyes widened and then intensified.

A drowsy Canna did not notice this until she looked up at him. Her face darkened and she frowned at the sight of him. Her sleepiness fled, and in a sharp tone she said, "What?"

Her voice and tone snapped the king out of his stupor, though there was a slight redness to his bronzed cheeks. "I did not think you would still be sleeping. Forgive me. I wanted to ask if you would accept a visit from my sister, Dis. You met her on the day of her homecoming, I believe?"

Canna frowned. She was as likely to find a supporter in Dis as she was to find in Balin. How much of the truth did she even know? If Canna guessed right, then the King would not wish his sister to know the truth of his terrible actions.

But could she really really refuse? She could not avoid the King's sister forever. She had already vowed to herself to be more open to the innocent dwarves who had played no part in her current misery. As far as she knew, Dis counted as one of them.

Without looking at the king, she bit out, "Very well. What time am I to expect her?"

From the corner of her eye she saw him start at her answer. Clearly he had not expected her to acquiesce. "After lunch. She will come to your rooms."

_How presumptuous_. "I think–why are you staring? Is there something that disgusts you particularly? Please tell me, so I may maintain it just so."

Thorin reddened, paled, and left the room in a flurry of robes and stomping.

Despite her anger, Canna was genuinely confused as she stared at the door. _What was that about?_

She glanced down at herself and immediately found her answer. She was wearing a a flimsy white bedrobe, given to her by a maid. It had been comfortable and unrestricting when she had been recovering. But it revealed too much for a male's eye.

Canna felt her entire body flush red. How could she have forgotten? The whole reason she was in this mess was because of the King's lust. And now that she had recovered, there was nothing to stop him from feeling attracted to her. She felt the familiar surge of anger, but as she remembered the look on the King's face, her mind took another turn.

Slowly a plan began to form, and with it a wicked grin. _As long as I have to be in his company, we shall see if my _betrothed_ will do himself some damage…_

* * *

Thorin nearly sprinted to his own chambers and slammed the door shut, panting. Despite Canna's cruel words, he could not get her image out of his head.

Her amber eyes had still contained remnants of sleep, and her glossy hair was so disheveled that many black strands escaped her braid and framed her face. She had looked innocent and lovely.

But that flimsy robe…

Thorin could feel his face flush at the mere memory. It hung a bit loose on her, so much so that it dipped rather low on her chest. One sleeve had slipped over her shoulder, revealing even more pale, soft-looking skin.

_Beguiling_. There was no other word for it.

Thorin shook himself and took a deep breath before stepping out. He needed to find his sister.

* * *

Canna was a little disappointed to find that Darun was not part of her morning guard, as she had important business with him. After taking breakfast in her room–she was still shaken from her last visit to the eating halls, and she did not intend to surprise the poor kitchen staff again–she asked the Grey One, who had returned to her guard, where Darun might be.

"The training grounds, my lady."

Canna was pleased; this suited her plans perfectly. "Then that is where we will go."

However, as they got closer to their destination, she became increasingly nervous. From habit the dam's hand rose to where one of her twin blades normally rested rested, and with a pang she suddenly recalled the orcs seizing them.

Her heart constricted. _I lost more than just my future_.

She heard the familiar sounds of fighting dwarves before she saw them. Hearing some known voices, her heart beat quicker.

_How will I be received? Will they hate me? They have every right to._

But Canna shook her head to dispel these thoughts. She had rehearsed what she would say before coming here. _As long as they are alive and well, that is all I ask. They can hate me as much as they want after that._

When they first saw her, standing there watching them, they all stopped in unison.

Canna silently counted the, feeling her heart swell at each familiar face.

They all stood stiffly, but their eyes were fixed on her person.

At last Canna cleared her throat and spoke. Her throat felt scratchy, but she ignored the urge to gulp. "Where is Tarkin? And Vard, and Dair, and Minar?"

Her men–indeed, she still thought of them as her own, no matter what they may think of her now–looked at each other, grief etched on their faces. Darun, who stood their with a sword clutched in his hand, stepped forward at last.

"They are dead. They died in the battle. Tarkin had already been wounded at the river, if you remember. Lord Kili told him to stay put at the Iron Hills, but he would not hear of it. He said…he said he wanted to fight for your life, just as we all did."

His last words seemed to break the stillness. The soldiers' shoulders sagged, and their faces softened with the remembrance of friends past.

Canna closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer to Mahal. With a shuddering sigh, she opened dry eyes and stepped forward. One by one, she reached up and hugged her men, hoping that her gratefulness and repentance could be felt through it.

From the answering arms around her, she had a feeling it worked.

* * *

It was with great reluctance that Canna left her men to their training, with a promise to return tomorrow. Her soul was almost at ease as she made her way back to her room. She was slowly making amends, and piecing her life back together at the same time.

But now she had to eat lunch and get ready to meet Dis. Canna inwardly acknowledged that this meeting had her feeling uneasy.

_I suppose_, she thought to herself, _that it really depends on two things: what she knows, and what I tell her. _

Assuming Dis had no clue that her brother had faked a betrothal that Canna had been subsequently trapped into, should Canna tell her?

Certainly, Canna did not wish to maintain such a lie, and it would feel good to reveal the King's true self to his sister; but there was the threat of Dain hanging over her.

Canna sighed. There would be no truth spoken today.

She thought about what she would say; it seemed sensible. _I do not need to lie; I must simply watch my tongue, so that the heart of the matter does not slip out. And Dis cannot know my true feelings; I cannot have an enemy in her._

Canna chuckled to herself, ignoring the look her guards sent her. _Not so simple, after all_.

Wanting to change the subject of her thoughts, she looked back at her guards, particularly the Grey One. "What is your name?"

"Vorgir, my lady."

"I told you not to call me that."

"We are ordered to, my lady."

"Well, I am ordering you not to. At least so long as you are in my presence. Understood?"

"But we must call you something, my lady."

"I told you to address me by my name. I am quite fond of it, you see."

"Bu–"

"No! This is no little matter for me. Think of it like this." Canna's face grew serious. "You are my guard. I do not really know what you are guarding me _from_, but that is an argument for another time. But, I know that if I were guarding someone, I would be more willing to to risk my life for them if I considered them my friend. And calling them by their name is a good step to friendship. Or so I am told."

The other guards smiled at her words, but Vorgir looked troubled. "I hope you do not think that I would not risk my life for yours were someone to attack us this moment, my lady. It is my duty, and my honor, and I will perform it whole-heartedly."

Canna's heart sunk with the realization that she had offended him. "Please do not take insult at my words, for I meant none. I have no doubts that you are devoted to your duty; you are a dwarf after all."

Vorgir's wizened face relaxed at these words, and Canna truly felt sorry. Dwarves prized their professions above nearly all else. She should not have made light of his.

"But I do insist you call me Canna, for my own comfort. I am no lady; I have never remotely been close to being one; nor do I want to be. So I really do order you to call me Canna, at least in my presence."

She hoped that her smile was gentle, and by the small nod she received from Vorgir, she had good reason to consider it just so.

"Very well…Canna."

"…You do not have to look so pained when you say it, you know."

And finally, she saw the slightest upturn of Vorgir's lips.

_Success!_

* * *

After exercising, going to the baths, and eating a quick lunch, Canna was ready for Dis. At least she hoped so.

There was a loud knock on the door.

Canna braced herself and called out, "Come in!"

In swept Dis, looking as naturally regal as Canna had ever seen. She wore a luscious dress of royal blue that hugged her voluptuous chest. A broad gold belt was clinched around her waist, and her dark locks were done up in a simple but very elegant manner. Canna did not even know if there was a name for that hairstyle. Some sapphire-and-gold bracelets and necklace finished off the look.

_None could doubt that she is royalty_.

Dis gracefully walked towards Canna and extended a bronzed hand for the other dwarrow to take. They were both of a height, but where Canna was slender, Dis was curvaceous. In some strange way, Canna felt tiny next to her. But she held her ground.

Dis spoke first. "I am glad to see you recovered from your ordeal," she said with a kind smile. "You look well."

"Aye, thank you."

Dis waited a moment for saying, "Why do you not sit down?"

Canna frowned. There was only one chair in the room; she had accidentally broken the other in one of her fits of fury.

"You should take the chair then," she suggested sheepishly, sitting on the edge of the bed. What was she to say to this dwarrow dam, that would be interesting and truthful while avoiding the subjects she did not wish to discuss?

It appeared as if Dis recognized her plight and was taking charge of the conversation, for she sat down in the plush chair and scooted closer to Canna. Her dark brown eyes surveyed the pale-skinned dwarf before she sighed.

"I am not sure how much my brother told you, but it appears as if you are unaware of the reason for my visit."

Canna could only nod.

"That is what I thought. Well, that was very remiss of my brother, but I am sure you and him and better things to talk about." She grinned here, and the look reminded Canna most consciously of Fili and Kili.

_Of course; she is their mother, after all_. Thinking of her as their mother, rather than Thorin's sister, was far more appealing.

She relaxed a bit. "If there is a particular reason for your visit, then no, I had no idea of any such thing."

"It matters not. I have more than one reason. First of all, I would like to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Are those the only clothes you own?"

Canna was wearing her usual black breeches and white tunic. Nonplussed, she replied, "I have several of these, in fact."

Dis' eyes widened before she rolled her eyes. "You are just like the menfolk. Well, it looks like there is more work here than I thought. There are a few handmaidens waiting outside. I will call them in now, with your permission."

Canna jumped to her feet with eyes wide. "Wait, what?"

Dis turned at the turn to look at her. "We need your measurements. It is my responsibility to see you dressed for your new role, and by Durin's beard, so will it be!"

The door burst open, and five dwarf dams of varying ages, dressed in white gowns, came flitted in.

Canna could only stand in confused frozen silence as the women tittered and flitted and giggled and poked and prodded and squeezed. This felt like some otherworldly experience; it was as if Mahal had plucked her soul out of her body so she could see from above, watching but not apart of the picture.

The dwarrows were a little nervous at first, approaching her cautiously. After they were confident that she would not move, let alone speak, their curiosity took over. They found her looks as exotic as everyone else, it seemed. They caressed her skin, and twirled strands of her hair, and stared closely at her facial features like they were examining some rare sort of insect.

Throughout this whole escapade, Dis stood by, watching with a gleam in her eye. _What a most interesting sister I am to have_.

* * *

**Well, this chapter was longer than I planned! Because of that, I decided to break up Dis' visit. In the next chapter, you'll them talk about more serious things. We'll also see Balin, and Fili and Kili, very soon.**

**Someone mentioned that I update this story with the speed of light. I wish it were always so. Those that have followed this story since the beginning can tell you that my updates are erratic at best. I can go months without updating, and then update twice in a weekend. This surge of creativity I've been having is unprecedented. I'm glad you are pleased, though. **

**ONE MORE THING: to the person who PMed me, I'm sorry to say that English is the only language I know. And when I put your long post into Google Translate, I found out how bad Google Translate really is. So I'm sorry that I wasn't able to truly answer your questions. From what I understood, you wanted to ask some questions about Canna's psychological state of mind? Please forgive me. I'd love to answer your questions as soon as I find a decent translator. **

**Let me know what you think of this new chapter! This is obviously a new phase in the story after Canna's whole depressed tantrum stage. Thank you so much for the reviews I got for last chapter!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

* * *

When Canna had recovered enough to answer questions on her preferences–or lack thereof–and the handmaidens had left, Dis and Canna sat back down, facing the other.

"So," said Dis, "now that we have gotten that done, there is another matter. Has anyone told you of what your role as Queen will be?"

Canna was again thrown off balance. In her determination to deny her betrothal and wedding, she had also ignored that. "Well…no."

Dis huffed. "That brother of mine! I'll box his ears when I find him," she swore. "I suppose that falls on me as well." She took a deep breath. "The Queen of Erebor is, first and foremost, a ceremonial role. Your main role is to beget heirs."

Canna flinched. _So she does not know_. "But are not Fili, and then Kili, in line for the throne? I Believe they were–are–being groomed for the throne."

"Yes, they are now." Here Dis gave a slightly sad smile. "Thorin loves my sons like they were his own; of that I have no doubt. But should you have a son, Thorin cannot ignore the change. The right to the throne goes _first_ to sons. Sister-sons must step back."

Canna's heart went out to this dwarrow, this mother who was helping the one who (in Canna's mind, at least) would be responsible for shoving her own sons into a corner.

She did not want to tell Dis the whole truth, suspecting that it would not go over well. But she could say, "I have a sense that you will have no cause to worry."

Dis smiled without humor. "Anyways, that is your main role. After that, a Queen can choose her path. She can either do nothing, and leave the running of the mountain to her mate; or she can play roles that befit her position, such as managing the healing wing or the overseeing of newcomers."

This conversation felt surreal. Canna's mind still could not keep up with the fact that they were discussing _her_, and not some other, more royal, dwarf dam.

She slowly asked, "What did the Queens before me choose?"

"My mother did not play a role in running the mountain…while we were in the mountain. After Smaug came, we were forced to wandering the hills for many years. In that time, my mother was forced to take on more practical duties. My father-mother, on the other hand, did choose to see to the running of the kitchens. Cooking was her passion, and seeing that the tables were set with fine food was a pleasure of hers."

"I see." Canna sighed inwardly. _So really, I am expected to do nothing. Remain unseen_. "Tell me about your life after the dragon came, if you could. I understand if–"

"–I do not mind." Dis gave another small, grieved smile. "These last years rebuilding Erebor have helped bring peace to my heart, at long last. And you should know, if you did not before."

She took a moment to herself before speaking with hands clasped together. "My father-mother did not survive Smaug's desolation. That, along with the loss of Erebor, killed my grandfather. My father, Thrain, lead us all through the wilderness. There were too many of us that were injured, and hungry, and sick. We lost many good dwarves to the first winter. Feeling the losses keenly, my father decided to lead those of us that remained to Moria, another of the seven dwarf kingdoms, as you know. To be honest, Thorin did not agree with this decision; he guessed that the lost kingdom would still be overrun with evil, and he did not any more deaths. But our father would not listen. It was as Thorin predicted, and so much worse."

"I know what happens next," Canna interjected gently. "Tales of that battle are rampant in this mountain. You do not need to speak of it; I can see it gives you pain."

"Thank you." Dis gave a slightly watery smile, but her tears did not fall from her her eyes. "My father died in that battle, and my mother died from the grief of losing him. My husband was killed as well. Thorin and I were left alone, to lead the remaining few to safety. Fili was but a tiny child at the time, and I was carrying Kili at that time. Thorin shouldered the entire burden on himself. We moved from town to town, doing menial jobs in exchange for scraps of food. Thorin himself worked from dawn to dusk as a simple blacksmith, and he was the last to eat every day.

"Then after five years, by chance, we happened to hear some story of the uninhabited Blue Mountains. Thorin seized the idea and brought us all there. There we found enough materials to start building houses, and once merchants knew of our location, they came through with food and gold to exchange for our crafts. It took many years, but eventually we were able to live relatively comfortable lives."

Canna had listened with rapt attention, and she could scarcely believe the story. "He really did all that?'

"Of course!" Dis gave a surprised laugh. "He is the finest king Erebor could wish for. And I do not just speak as a loving sister." She winked.

Canna wanted jump to her feet, wanted to shout "No! He is an awful king! The child that hides under the food tables trying to peek under the dwarrows' skirts could do better!" But she did not, being held back by three realizations: one, that the child that hides under the food tables trying to peak under the dwarrows' skirts could _not_ to better; two, that to say such a thing to the king's loving sister would be very stupid and very cruel; and three, that he was not a bad ruler.

_Today just seems to be a day of revelations_.

In truth, Thorin Oakenshield may be arrogant, and unkind, and controlling, but a poor ruler he was not. Canna had seen how Erebor had rebuilt itself under his efforts; before her entrapment, she had even grudgingly admired him for it.

Just because she despised him, does not mean that she could be so wholly ignorant of his abilities.

_Why am I suddenly having these thoughts? _Canna attributed it to Dis; it was difficult to see and hear evidence of this powerful dwarf dam's devotion to her husband, and not feel a pull to agree with her.

"Canna? Canna?"

Taken out of her trance by Dis, Canna refocused and gave a slightly pained smile. "You are right; he is a good ruler."

Caught up in her own realization, she did not notice the narrowing of Dis' eyes, or the shrewd look that followed.

"He is as good a dwarf as he is a king, too," she said off-handedly.

Canna's eyes widened. _Here we must disagree_. "I see."

"I was struggling to take care of Fili and Kili and deal with my husband's death. Thorin already had enough on his shoulders, but he took them under his wing. When our people trekked to new towns or to places of shelter, Thorin would swing them both onto his shoulders as soon as they complained of being tired. He would not put them down until we would all stopped. And he always tried to cheer me up. Five years after the Battle of Moria, he scrounged up whatever little money he had saved and bought me a woolen cloak. He must have seen how I still grieved for Haethor…I still have that cloak. It may not be beautiful, but it was bought with love, and it kept me warm through many cold winters. Sisters are rarely given much notice by their brothers, no matter how much love there is. I never felt less than Thorin, though; he would not let me."

Canna could not take it anymore. She stood to her feet and began pacing the length of her room. _Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat_.

Dis watched this all suspiciously. "I think it is time I took my leave. I have not forgotten to box his ears," she said with faux cheer.

Canna watched her gracefully stand up, her blue skirts swishing around her legs as she walked to the door. Before opening it, she turned once and met Canna's eyes.

"My brother has many faults; I know them well. But do not forget his strengths. He has a heart of gold, and he loves you. He loves you very much. I know forgiveness does not come easily to our kind, but times are changing. We should too."

With that she left, and Canna was left to stand in the middle of all her doubts.

* * *

The library proved to be a poor refuge from her thoughts, for they followed her everywhere. With her poor reading skills so gratingly apparent, she slammed the large tome shut with a growl. A plume of dust promptly appeared before her eyes, and she sneezed loudly.

The scribes stared at her with slight disapproval.

"Oh, as if you lot have never sneezed before!" Canna was in no mood for niceties right now.

_Who is Thorin Oakenshield?_

Dis' meeting had thrown Canna out of her own mindset; a rare thing indeed. But Canna could not ignore it. She was reminded of her months in Erebor before that fateful trip. She and the King had gotten into enough arguments, and none would call them friends. But Canna had found nothing truly wrong in his ruling of Erebor, or in his care of his subjects. She was tossed back in time to her first day here, when she had entered the Hall of Kings with a handful of newcomers. How surprised she had been to see the King himself there to greet them! She had approved of his words and his presence there, despite their subsequently poor introduction to each other.

And although he had behaved arrogantly many times, and his words before their capture had been cruel, he had saved her when her horse had been shot. He had come back for her. She had forgotten.

_Certainly I have fair reason to disapprove of him personally, but have I purposefully blinded myself?_

The painful truth was that she had. She had not wanted to remember his good traits, so she had banished them from her mind, choosing instead to dwell on what would allow her to sustain her hatred for him.

Dis had been genuine when she had spoke of Thorin's deeds. There had been no artifice in her looks or words. And certainly the people were loyal to him; his praises were sung from the mines to the ramparts.

Feeling a headache coming on, Canna turned to Darun, who was on her evening guard. "May I sit with your family at dinner?"

He looked surprised, but pleased. "Of course, Cap-Canna. My wife'll be well pleased, and my boy still remembers you, I think."

Canna smiled. "Lead the way then, my friend."

* * *

She had not forgotten the warriors' glares. And now, to be sitting amongst them, she felt distinctly uncomfortable. At least at first.

But then some of her own men saw her sitting next to Darun, and yelled loudly "Oy! The Captain's here!" And promptly moved themselves and their families to sit around her. She even saw one of them, Famur, push aside a soldier that had been glaring at her with a little more roughness than necessary, placing himself across from her.

Canna felt her entire body fill with warmth. She was so glad she had reconciled with them, and that she had realized the error of her ways.

_Perhaps there are more errors you have yet to correct_. Canna pushed that voice aside; her pride could not take it, and at the moment her heart could not either.

It took awhile, but soon Canna and her men were chatting and joking as they had once done. Some of the warrior families had left the table, and some had moved away from her, but a few that remained watched the interactions with suspicious curiosity.

And then Darun poked her shoulder and gestured behind her. Turning in her seat, Canna was shocked to see a small line of dwarves. Most were craftsmen, but there were a few warriors there, and their families. Each came up to her, bowed, and said "Thank you for saving our King." Or something of that line.

Canna could only nod her head, feeling uncomfortable at such reverence. "I did nothing unusual," she wanted to plead with them. "I did it out of duty; please believe me! I do not deserve all this." But she kept her mouth shut, and eventually the line was gone and Canna turned back to her food. The chatter increased again, and the moment passed.

Feeling a pair of eyes burning into her side, Canna looked and found Thorin staring at her. His expression was unreadable, but he met her gaze. Canna looked back at him, ignoring Balin who sat beside him.

_What is he thinking? Is he surprised I am here? Is he angry I sat here and not by him? Did Dis speak to him?_

Canna could not know what he was thinking; but she did know her own thoughts. _I have not forgiven you; but I cannot ignore you as I wished to. _With that, she raised her mug to him.

Thorin's eyes widened; she could see him start from here. He raised his own glass to her then, and she thought she saw a softening of his face.

Suddenly Canna felt something move around her legs. Peeking underneath the table, she saw a mop of red hair and a pair of round brown eyes staring at her.

He looked shocked, before furiously whispering, "Yer a girl! Girls should wear skirts!"

Canna grinned, recognizing him. "Disappointed, are you?" she murmured wickedly.

A bright flush turned his round cheeks red as apples, and he tried to crawl away.

"Oh, no you don't." With lightning speed, she shot her hand out and grabbed his leg, hoisting him up into her lap despite his kicking and screaming.

With some difficulty she hoisted him above her head. "Does this belong to anyone?"

She heard a loud gasp from her left. "Gimli, what in Mahal's name! Have you been sneaking under skirts again? Oh, wait till I get my hands on you! Gloin, go and _fetch your son_!"

A red-faced Gloin shuffled up to her and snatched his screaming son, and the men laughed uproariously. But no one was laughing louder than Canna, whose cheeks hurt from disuse.

But when another laugh joined the crowd, Canna stopped and spun her head to see the King laughing so hard his shoulders were shaking. His eyes turned to her and his laughter receded to chuckling, but the twinkle in his eyes had not left. With a grin he raised his glass to her once more.

Then and there Canna made up her mind. She was done doubting herself; there was only one way to find out who was right and who was wrong.

_Maybe I will learn my own mind by learning yours, Thorin Oakenshield. It is time we were better acquainted_.

* * *

**I don't know when I'll be able to update after this. But next chapter, we'll get more of Thorin's POV.**

**Canna's change may seem sudden, but it's not a full change; she has doubts, but they have more to do with herself than Thorin. She only recently realized that she was very wrong to behave as she did, and in opening herself to other dwarves, including Dis, she was forced to take Dis' words to heart. It's seriously hard to realize you might've been completely wrong so many times in so short a period, though. **

**More than anything, Canna's loneliness plays a role. Yes, she now has other friends, but she's still on wobbly feet. And now that she's suddenly winning back friends but also realizing all her mistakes, she's vulnerable. **

**From here we'll see more Thorin/Canna interactions (although there is still a LOT that needs to be resolved before things are okay). **

**Thank you so much to those of you that reviewed, and please let me know what you think! I really really look forward to hearing your thoughts.**


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

* * *

Thorin got into bed with a feeling of contentedness that night. The Canna he had seen at dinner had been the one he remembered from before–loud, funny, and brighter than the moon.

He remembered Balin's words during dinner. The king had watched his subjects come up to Canna and offer their support, with a feeling of pride in his chest.

And then Balin had leaned over and whispered, "She is finally taking the first step to becoming a Queen."

"What step?" he had breathed.

"Loving the people."

And when he had looked closer, he could see the truth in Balin's words. Canna looked uncomfortable at the attention, but she had accepted it with a graceful nod and a lovely, gentle smile.

And when she raised her eyes and mug to his, there had been turmoil there, yes. But there had also been some strange sort of acceptance.

Thorin did not know what to think of her actions, but he felt almost happy as he slid under his sheets.

His happiness was short-lived, when a familiar voice called out to him. "Thorin, are you in there?"

Thorin huffed and reluctantly pulled himself out of bed, moving to the oak door and swinging it open. "What is it, Dis?"

"Thorin! Put on a shirt, for Durin's sake!"

"You do not get to order me in my own room, Dis!"

"Hmph." She swept in, as she usually did. Thorin rolled his eyes before shutting the door and turning to face his sister.

"What is it?"

"You know I spoke to Canna today."

Of course; how could he have forgotten? Feeling much more attentive, Thorin nodded.

Dis seemed to mull over what she was about to say, which worried him. His sister was not one to be so cautious with her words.

At last, she warily began. "Brother, did you have a fight with her?"

Thorin started. What had Canna said? How much did Dis know? "Perhaps. Why?"

"Well…she seemed unhappy with you. She did not say anything, so I cannot be sure. But she certainly seemed surprised to hear me say anything good of you. Clearly she is still upset with you. I thought you should know, so you may stop being so coal-headed and make things right with her."

Relief, concern, and confusion all took their turns passing through Thorin's head. He knew well the reason for Canna's anger, and he knew just how furious she was at him. But clearly she had concealed the depth of her hatred from his sister. For that he was grateful. He did not know what Dis would think if she heard the full truth, but he knew that it would only cause tension between her and Canna. Thorin did not want Dis to focus her wrath on his unwilling bride. If keeping secrets was the only way to make Dis Canna's ally, he would gladly continue to do it.

Still, "Do you approve of her, then?"

Dis scoffed. "I never disapproved of her, you fool. I still have my doubts as to whether she will be a good Queen–her expression when the maidens were taking her measurements was quite something, I assure you–but as I told her, it is mostly a ceremonial role. Playing the part is something that can be taught."

Yes, he knew that. "She will make a fine queen, Dis. You were not there at dinner, or you would have seen her. Whatever role she chooses to play, I will welcome it." It was the very least he could do.

Dis sighed, chatted with him on subjects of the kingdom for some time, and left him alone.

Feeling weary, Thorin dropped into bed with less content than before. He knew that things between him and Canna were truly bad. Try as he might, he could not think of a way to fix it; every conversation they had resulted in poisoned words, from both sides.

But being without her, without seeing her, hurt more.

He wanted her to love Erebor; he wanted her to love him even more.

Right now, it seemed like he could only have one.

* * *

Despite Canna's decision to speak to the king, she had delayed. Apprehension had filled the pit of her stomach as soon as she had returned to the solitude of her room, and so she had gone to bed with all her doubts.

The next morning, she was up early. But when she asked a maid in the hallways when the King would be awake, it turned out that he was already awake and seeing to business around the mountain. Canna cursed under her breath; she needed to speak to Thorin alone.

She decided to take her restless energy to the training rounds, where she surprised her men. They happily invited her to train with them, tossing her a sword. Again, the dwarrow was reminded of the dual blades she had lost. She adjusted to the sword well enough, but her hands still felt empty without her own unique weapons.

It also turned out that, despite her exercise after recovering from her injuries, her muscles had forgotten the strain of battle. Canna received more nicks than she remembered ever getting from these dwarves before, and decided she would need to come here more often.

Feeling much better as she left, Canna remembered her goal: she would speak to Thorin today.

_But I do not plan on chasing him all around this cursed mountain_. After a quick shower in the thankfully empty public baths, she raced to the library. The scribes no longer reacted with surprise to see her, but when she asked one for parchment and ink, they all scrambled to retrieve it. Canna watched fondly as they scampered around their own domain.

"Thank you," she said with a large smile, before sitting at a table and preparing herself. Writing was even harder than reading, and she did not want her lack od familiarity to be made public knowledge.

With slow, determined strokes, she wrote her note. For her own sake, she kept it as succinct as possible. Any mistakes or blots would have to be forgiven; the sight of her restarting a simple sentence would probably send these book-beards into a panic.

She turned to one of her four guards and placed the note in his large hands. "Could you see that this is delivered to the King?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Oh, how many times do–oh, never mind."

Her note finished, Canna went back to her laborious job of looking for information in Erebor about her own ancestors. Her incredibly slow pace was really bothering her now; this business was urgent, and she could not ask anyone to help her with it. Unless…

_They cannot read for me, but maybe they can help me read._

But who was equipped for such a job? Her thoughts immediately went to Balin, but she dismissed them along with the pang in her heart. No, not Balin. Not anymore.

Darun, with his simple background, probably knew less than she did.

_Then who wi–oh, I know now_.

"Does anyone know where I might find Kili and Fili?"

* * *

"My King?"

Thorin turned to find a guard hovering by his throne. "What?"

"A note, from Lady Canna."

Thorin's heart suddenly picked up its pace. A dazed Thorin glanced around the hall anxiously. Most of the advisors were smiling indulgently, but Balin looked worried. Thorin did not know how to feel as he took the folded parchment from the guard's hand.

Cautiously he opened it, fearing and yet needing to see the words she had written.

We must talk today. Tell me where and when. Not my room.

Canna.

There was nothing intimate about the note's contents, but Thorin felt his ears go pink.

"Adjourned!" he called out, eyes still on the parchment. Without waiting, he rose and strode out of the great hall to his own study. There he grabbed his feather pen and jotted down a reply in his best handwriting.

Thorin was not surprised when Balin slipped in a few moments later.

"Thorin, what did the note say?"

The king mentally debated giving Balin the note or not; he knew things were not well between his bride and his advisor.

"She wants to talk today. That is all."

Balin frowned and took the seat across from Thorin at his large desk.

"What do you think she means to say?" the elderly dwarf asked hesitantly.

Thorin shrugged. "I do not know, but I have seen a lifting of her spirits these past days. For her to ask me to meet her, it cannot be bad." He thought to himself before continuing in a more dejected tone. "Every time we have spoken since the return has been for naught. We have both said things we should not have, but I do not know what to do! How can she be so blind? Never did I think that saving her would be cause for her to hate me. But I do not regret it. I understand that we both put her in this position without asking her, but she must know it was the only way!"

Balin rubbed his fingers together, watching his king fume in his own desperation. "I no longer have the ability to tell you what that lass will do, Thorin. Meet her. Talk to her. Most importantly, _keep your temper in check_. That is all you can do."

Thorin nodded. He anticipated and feared the meeting. Filled with restless energy, he growled, "Tell Dwalin to meet me at the training grounds." He needed to punch something.

* * *

Her hands were clenched as she entered the empty training grounds. It was dark; if not for the torches, she would be blind.

He was not here. Simultaneously irritated and relieved, Canna took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. She had to remember why she was here; she would not let her anger overcome her. Her only duty was to discover if she had made a mistake with regards to Thorin Oakenshield. If she had not, she could clear her doubts with surety, and hold her head high in her justified hatred.

But if she had made a mistake…Canna did not know what she would do. These last few days, spent rediscovering her faults, had weakened the walls around her heart.

Canna heard his footsteps before he had even entered the grounds, but she did not yet turn to see him, giving herself one more moment.

Then she turned and saw him.

He was not wearing the heavy robes he usually donned in the mountain. Instead, he was wearing a simple blue tunic of a dark hue. There was no crown on his head, and no adornments on his beard or arms.

For a moment, Canna was transported back to the time when they were stranded by the river with only each other for company. He had looked much like this then. And she had felt differently then.

The dwarf dam shook her head to clear away such thoughts. His cold blue eyes did not look cold right now; they looked wary, yes, but they were open. She saw hope, intrigue, and something else. What was that? Oh yes; the familiar desire.

"You wanted to talk."

Again Canna was thrown off by him; she had expected to be the first to talk.

She steeled herself and nodded, maintaining the distance of about ten strides between them.

_Well, there is nothing to do but jump into this_. "I want…I want to know why you did this to me."

She saw the King's mouth open slightly, heard his quick intake of air, felt the stale air around them shift.

"Did what?" he breathed out, eyes fixated on her.

Canna frowned. "Why you lied to everyone. Why you trapped me. Why…why you saved me."

She took a deep breath and asked the most important question. "Who am I to you, Thorin Oakenshield?"

* * *

**I'm sorry for ending it like that! But I felt that the conversation they're about to have deserves its own chapter. Clearly things are changing for both of them. **

**Thank you SO much for all the reviews I got last time! They pushed me to write this chapter as soon as possible, even though I still have a bunch of work waiting for me. **

**Let me know what you think! Reviews are appreciated more than you can imagine. **


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

* * *

He could feel a torrent of emotions inside of him, but Thorin did not care to take the time to identify any of them, except for one.

Hope. He felt hope, despite her grim look and questions. Was this the turning point in their relationship? Could it be?

Her face still held contempt, rage, and distrust. But there was also confusion; there was doubt, where before there had been none.

Yes, this was his one chance to convince her. Even as she hurled her questions at him, her tone was not as accusatory as he had grown accustomed to it being. Something had changed.

Thorin took a deep breath and collected his thoughts; he had purposely come dressed in simple clothes, knowing that arriving in his regal robes and crown would not aid him. A part of him regretted throwing off the nobility that was his greatest defense and weapon; but looking at her now, in their plain setting, he congratulated him on his decision.

_But where to start? The beginning._

"I never wanted this."

Canna, who had apparently been lulled by his silence, raised startled eyes back to him. He saw her body tense once more, like a hare ready to flee at the slightest movement.

He forced himself to keep his voice low, as mellow as he could. But his eyes continuously shifted between the floor and Canna.

"You will not believe me, but it is so. I do love you…" The King paused as he saw her turn her head to the side; he caught the slight roll of her eyes, and felt his temper rise. "I did; and my love is not some tawdry trinket for you to throw aside. I love you. I loved you before you sacrificed yourself, as you should know. You clearly did not believe me then, but how can you still doubt it after all that has occurred? Do you think I wanted to tie you to me in such a way? That I would not rather you come to me willingly?"

He would have continued, but when Canna abruptly held up a hand to stop him, he was taken off guard.

Anger shone clearly from her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but appeared to hesitate. Brow furrowed, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes once more, her face was more relaxed.

"How should I know what you think? I remember well your past words. 'I do not take well to refusals', and 'you will change your mind'. As if I truly had a choice in the matter! I meant what I said back then, Oakenshield, and I mean it now; you do not know me, nor I you. When I gave myself to the orcs, it was not out of love, but duty. Let it never be said that Canna, traveler of Middle-Earth and all its depths, is unwilling to sacrifice her life for the good of dwarfdom! _That_ is what I was thinking."

Seeing Thorin's face pale and then redden, Canna almost felt guilty; her words were harsh, particularly to someone who claimed to love her. But they were not spoken because she was angry, but because they were the truth, and was that not the purpose of this whole meeting? To speak the truth?

With this reminder, Canna clasped her hands in front of her and waited for the King to collect his thoughts.

Her calm pose stopped Thorin from blurting out whatever acidic words were on his tongue, and think. Her reminder of the foul words he had spoken when he first requested a courtship had him inwardly flinching; always had he let his pride and temper rule him. Even after all he had lost, and the Quest, and the dragon sickness, that had remained a part of him. Was she justified in doubting him? Perhaps.

But still, "Whatever my words, what of my actions? Do you know the lives that were given to save y–"

"Stop!"

Thorin halted, taken aback by the almost frightened eyes that stared back at him.

"Do not speak of that."

Confused and slightly irritated by her command, Thorin was nonetheless moved by the pained look on her lovely face, and acquiesced.

A tense, awkward silence filled the air. Thorin did not know how to breach it, and was relieved when Canna spoke first.

"Why did you do it, then; tell the whole mountain that I was your betrothed? You were aware of my feelings."

"I thought your…your sacrifice, meant your feelings had changed." Thorin chuckled, but it was devoid of humor. "Knowing your true motives now, I was a fool indeed. When I left you, my only thought was to save you. I was ready to do anything for your life, even give my own. But I needed my people's goodwill, and the only way to get that was to tie their loyalty to you, not just to me. The story of how you saved me certainly helped, but it was not enough; many of them had suffered much hardship to reach Erebor, and they were not willing to risk their lives for anything less than royalty. That is what I made you. Could I have found another way? Possibly; I know not. I have not been able to think of anything yet, and there was not much time for thought at that time."

He paused to let the pale dwarrow absorb his words, and then continued. "Truly, I did not wish to take away your right. But your life is more valuable to me, and I do not regret the lie, for it is the only reason you stand before me now."

Seeing the torchlight flicker over her white skin, Thorin crossed the distance between them and reached out to touch her face. "So beautiful," he murmured. His fingers barely skimmed over her cheek before Canna flinched and jumped back.

"Do not touch me!" she fumed.

Thorin took a step back and sighed, running a hand down his harrowed face. "You may not accept my view, but it is the truth. But now I have a question, for you: why did you not try to escape? It is what I expected of you."

Canna's eyes widened, and she seemed to struggle to find the words to answer. Thorin could only watch in consternation, until she spoke at last. Her eyes, which had previously been fixed on him, were lowered to the floor.

"I am not so foolish to think I could escape, with the guards you put on me. I could probably escape, but not without causing pain to good dwarves who are only doing their duty."

Her answer was deeply flawed, but Thorin did not know how to press her further.

She finally looked back at him. "You did not want this, then?"

"No!" It was with great relief and earnestness that Thorin spoke, staring deeply into her eyes. "I only desired to save your life; the cost was great, but I cannot regret it. I do not wish for you to hate your life here. I will do anything for your happiness; I love you. Your passion and fire, your laughter, your voice, your skill…I do not need to know _about_ you to know you. The past months that you have spent in pain have hurt me just as deep. All I desire now is for you to allow us the chance to know each other." Speaking so forthrightly made him feel vulnerable, but he was desperate; since her rescue, their relationship had become poisonous to them both, and Thorin was rarely one to do things in halves. If this was his only chance at happiness, he would do whatever was in his means to get it.

Meanwhile, Canna's thoughts were significantly different than his.

So many of his words were repetitions of things he had said before; and yet, they were not. It had taken every inch of willpower for Canna to keep still and listen to him without anger, at least at first. The urgency in his face, his earnestness, it was all laid bare for her to see. But, in hindsight, it had been laid bare for some time now…she had just refused to see it.

Canna unconsciously began to pace, oblivious to the blue eyes that followed her. Hands clasped behind her back, her steps rhythmically steady, the dwarf dam processed the King's words.

The first, and most painful realization, was that she had indeed been blinded by anger in her interactions with him since returning to the mountain. If she had not responded to his mere presence with such vitriol, perhaps they could have negotiated a way out of this. Perhaps then, Lord Dain would not have intervened. And she could have been free once more. It had been _her_ actions, not Thorin Oakenshield's, that had provoked the ruler of the Iron Hills to threaten her.

_For that, I can only blame myself_.

Canna's steps slowed almost to a complete halt, only to quicken so furiously that she was almost jogging. The last few days had been hard for her; the evidence of all her flaws were splayed out in front of her – her blatant selfishness, her cruelty when angry, her blindness, and a lack of tact. Even her pathetically poor ability to read simple Dwarfish tomes had made itself evident.

_How many times have I been wrong since coming here? How many people have I offended, and hurt, and cast away without thought? How did I become like this?_

She would have continued spiraling into self incrimination, had not Thorin interrupted her thoughts.

"Tell me what you are thinking."

Her anger spiked reflexively at the order. "You cannot make me tell you. After all, I am now the future Queen of Erebor, am I not? That makes me equal to you."

Thorin sighed at her seemingly ever-present ire. "Perhaps not as you think," he muttered, but in the large empty space, Canna heard him clearly.

"What do you mean?" she asked sharply.

Suddenly weary of this conversation, Thorin glanced at her and shook his head. "As I am sure Dis has told you, queens of Erebor play a more symbolic role. Their main purpose is to provide heirs–"

Here Thorin's eyes widened as he remembered Canna's situation. He watched her, an apology on his lips, only to see Canna staring back at him unfazed. If anything, there was a hint of a smirk on her face.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Why did you stop? You are obviously more affected by it than I am; if anything, I am glad that I cannot be used as a brood mare, like some animal." Her nonchalant attitude faded as she considered his words, though. "You are saying that I am not equal to you, then."

"No, that is not what I am saying!" Thorin's steely eyes nearly shot daggers at her as his temper flared. "_I_ will not look down on you; I do not. Whatever our people may feel, I hold you equal to myself. You must stop looking for the worst in everything I say; like it or not, we are to wed. It is a sacred bond, and if either of us are to be happy, then you will have to change."

In her mind, Canna knew what he was trying to say, but her heart still clenched painfully at his last words.

_Have I not changed enough these last days? I do not even know who I will be after this conversation…how much can you ask of me before I lose myself entirely?_

Canna felt the pressure behind her eyes with some astonishment, and hastily began pacing again so the King would not see her blink the tears away.

The King did not see the impact his words had had on her, but watching her frustrated pacing, his ire cooled down. He wanted to speak, but thought better of it for fear of what he would say.

Feeling somewhat more collected, Canna faced him once more. "So…you are not happy with how things are now. You believe that this…farce of a marriage, was really the only way to save me. You believe that you were right to save me the way you did. But you would not have made up such a lie if there had been no pressing need for it?"

Thorin firmly shook his head.

Canna absently chewed on her bottom lip while mulling over his words. The dwarf lord's eyes were drawn by the action, and remained fixated as her lips reddened.

The raven-haired dwarrow eventually nodded and spoke again. "I still have many problems with what you have said, but I need time to think it over." She had decided that the blunt truth was the best path to take; there had been too many misconceptions already. "I…I do not like it here. I do not like, or want, the role I have been given. And I do not think I will be fit for it either. Nor do I like you."

As always, her harsh words felt like knives in his heart, but Thorin was alert to the fact that they were not said with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, but openness. She was speaking the truth, but not from anger.

She continued, twisting her fingers together nervously. "But I do not think there is anything to be done about this now; I see no way out. So I will try to be happy. And, I suppose, I will try to know more about you before I make any final judgment. After my…my recent behavior…it is only fair." By the end, her head was hung down and she could not bring herself to look at him.

She heard his heavy footsteps approach her, but was still surprised when he reached out and placed warm hands on her shoulders. Looking up, she was startled by his proximity, and the look on his face. His sharp features seemed softened somehow; his eyes were not glaring, but gentle. His mouth was relaxed. There was no furrow on his brow. It was a sharp contrast from the regal king she was familiar with.

"That is all I can ask of you," he said; his baritone voice was soft and low; Canna could only blink up at him in a strange fixation. "I would like for us to know each other. Perhaps, if we spend some time with each other each day…"

Feeling his rumbling voice reverberate from her feet up, Canna could only nod.

His thin lips curved into a smile, and he slowly stepped back, his warm hands slowly leaving her shoulders. He gave a breathy laugh; it sounded so odd, after the heavy and oftentimes harsh conversation they had just had.

He looked around the empty training field and turned back to her with a smile still present. "Would you like to spar? It may be late, but I am not tired."

Shaken out of her lull, Canna felt her heart quicken in panic. "No!"

Thorin was taken aback by her sharp answer.

She forced her heart to slow with a deep breath, but could not shake the feeling completely. "I find myself most tired; perhaps another time."

The King nodded graciously, his face softening once more. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but before he could, Canna blurted out a "Good night, King," and jogged past him. She was out of his sight in moments, but Thorin remained standing, in the large empty training ground, for much longer, before returning to his own quarters, with a smile on his face.

* * *

The food hall was completely empty, and for that Canna was glad.

_I need a drink_.

* * *

**Wow, chapter 30! I can't believe this story has made it this far. The kind reviews I got for my update really pushed me to get this chapter right; I'm not sure if I succeeded fully, but it was the closest I've gotten.**

**Obviously, they have not discussed EVERYTHING that's wrong between them, but that would be too much for either of them to handle right now. And I think Canna could use a break.**

**There are two reviewers I would like to thank, today. One is Lordienne, who – despite being a more recent follower – has given me feedback for every chapter. I LOVE you for it; reading what a reader thinks as the story progresses is, for me, the most helpful. **

**The other reviewer is Lalaithel, who has been a longtime follower and who also gives me solid reviews for every new chapter. Lalaithel, I deeply appreciate your unwavering loyalty to Canna, even when she doesn't deserve it. Although I don't approve of her actions all the time, she is still my own creation, and it makes me feel warm to know that no matter what, she will have someone in her corner. **

**Looking forward to hearing from you! After such a heavy chapter, I could really use your feedback. What do you think of these developments, and of the characters?**


	31. Update

**UPDATE**

* * *

I am so sorry about this, but I just received word that there was an error in my last update, which was two weeks ago. Apparently followers (I don't know if it's everyone, or just some) did not get an update saying I posted a new chapter. Well, I did, and I apologize.

It seems the cause of this error is the deletion of my last update, which was replaced by the actual chapter. To prevent something like this from happening again, if I have to write an update (like this one) in the future, I will not delete it.

If you have not read the last chapter because you did not receive an update about it, I sincerely apologize, and look forward to hearing what you have to say about it! Please review it, if you can!


	32. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

* * *

There was something comforting about being drunk.

Canna could never put her finger on what that "something" was, but she was most grateful for it at times like these. The welcome burn of the mead dribbling down her throat, the loosening of stress and emotions long kept in, all were things she looked forward to.

Of course, there was also the inevitable loosening of her muscles as well, which was sure to get her killed in the wild. So whenever Canna had the chance to drink in relative safety, she took it.

She was glad the great hall was empty, for she was not in the mood for the company of any but her drink. Five times she emptied her mug, and five times she walked back to the keg to refill it. Normally the feeling of the bubbles popping in her mouth made her smile, but not tonight.

'_Tis no night for smiles_. The sober thought brought a deep frown to Canna's face. She sat on the wooden stool at the long wooden table, staring down at her mead, trying to ignore whatever thoughts flitted through her head. She wanted to forget.

That is how Vorgir and Darun found her hours later. When her only response to their inquiries was to blink owlishly back at them with red eyes, their only response was to gently pick her up by her arms and carry her back to her rooms. Vorgir remained outside her door, while Darun helped her into her bed and covered her with the fur blanket.

"Sleep well, Canna," he murmured.

He turned to leave, only to be stopped by her blurred words. "Do I even want to wake up?"

"If you do not, I will be grieved indeed, to lose a dear friend."

"Alright then."

* * *

It was a headache well-deserved, in Canna's opinion. The great throbbing in her head felt like a hammer's blow, and for once Canna was grateful for not being above ground, where the light of day would surely hurt her eyes something awful.

Still, this was a just punishment.

Morning brought back all Canna's memories of last night. Proof of her own stupidity and blindness had been laid out before her…but for her own faults, she could have found a way out of this mess without inciting Dain Ironfoot's wrath. Alas, dwarves were not well known for keeping calm heads in such situations, and Canna was obviously no exception. No longer could she place the blame solely on another's–namely, Thorin Oakenshield's–feet.

Darun was waiting on guard outside her door. Canna flushed in embarrassment on sight of him, and avoided his gaze.

"Is it late?"

He nodded. "Morning training will be over by the time we get there."

_Another failure of mine_. "Let us run, so I can apologize to them as they leave."

Even at a sprint, they barely made it in time to catch the men as they left. They all graciously accepted Canna's apologies with smiles and laughs, to her relief. The exercise of running here had bettered her mood, although her headache was still very much alive. Forcing her body to wake up by sparring with her men certainly helped though, and by the end of the session Canna was sweating and smiling.

"You're all much improved from those clumsy blockheads you used to be," she complimented with a laugh. "Who's been working with you in my absence?"

"Why, Dwalin himself," said Famur, puffing his chest proudly. "As a favor to you, he said."

Canna felt like someone had punched her in the gut with a brass fist. "I see," he managed to spit out after a silence that was too long. "I must thank him, then." _And apologize_.

Her last conversation with him, so many weeks ago, replayed in her head. Yes, an apology was necessary.

Trudging out of the grounds, Canna stared down at her pale, calloused hands.

_Hands of a fool_.

* * *

To Canna's overwhelming relief, Fili and Kili did not tease her as they painstakingly explained the subtler differences between certain runes. The little scribes that flitted around them looked shocked to see the usually rowdy heirs sitting in their chairs for such a length of time, and speaking in appropriately low tones.

Unfortunately, Canna's mind was not letting her focus. If Fili and Kili noticed her subdued mood, they did not say anything, although she felt their gaze on her more often than not.

"Does that make sense?"

Startled out of her own head by Kili's direct question, Canna looked up at them and grimaced. "No; forgive me, my mind seems to be…well, not here."

"Aye, we know," said Fili.

_So they did notice_. "Forgive me," she said again, for it felt like that was all she could say. Apologizing was to be her main duty, it seemed.

She felt a large, warm hand fall on her own, and followed the trail of the arm up to Fili. He had inherited the blue eyes that the line of Durin was known for, but his were a light and warm blue, not steely and piercing.

"Can we help?" he said softly.

Warmth flooded Canna's chest. Neither boys had questioned her too deeply when she had asked them to help her learn to read, and they had instantly promised to keep it a secret from all, including their uncle. Here were two souls in the mountain who liked her, who she liked, that she had not wronged. She would keep it that way.

"You already have," she replied with as much sincerity in her voice as she could muster. "Thank you for doing this, and keeping this secret. I was right to trust you."

Both young dwarves grinned at her.

"Of course!" Kili said jovially, ignoring the disapproving looks of the scribes. "You are to become family, after all."

The feeling of warmth faded, but not completely. "Yes, indeed." Canna saw Fili's smile grow, but the light in his eyes dim slightly.

_Of course! They do not know. _

Making a quick decision, Canna leaned forward, and Fili and Kili instinctively did the same.

Once their heads were huddled close together, Canna let it out. "You will still be the heirs to the throne. Have no fear."

Shock, elation, suspicion, curiosity, and finally confusion. Canna watched and saw them all, and smiled to herself. No, she had not wronged them, and would not ever.

"But the dwarfish laws–"

"I know the laws," Canna said, interrupting Kili. "And I still speak the truth. There will be no heirs to the throne but you. Do you understand me?"

Kili still looked confused, but Fili slowly nodded his head. "I believe I do. Is it your choice?"

"In this moment? Both."

Kili still looked confused, but a burgeoning smile livened Fili's face. The hand that clasped hers tightened.

Canna felt warm again; maybe there was still hope for a fool like her.

* * *

Thorin eagerly made his way to Canna's quarters, fingering the note in his pocket. He had been elated to receive her written response to his invitation for an evening stroll. He had skipped dinner in the halls to continue his work, so as to free the rest of his night for her. A part of him scoffed at the idea of following after the dwarrow like a lovestruck fool, but the rest of him did not care; did not he, too, deserve a chance a happiness?

He remembered Balin's words from earlier, when they had spoken last.

"The line of Durin has always been known for their quick loves. They love quickly and fiercely, when they love at all."

In hindsight, Thorin knew this to be true. His father and mother had not married for love, but Thror had nearly scandalously married with nearly no forethought. Kili, too, had been very quick in forming an attachment to his elf.

Both Thror and his sister-son had achieved love; his was unrequited, and that bothered him immensely. If Kili had found love with an _elf_ of all beings, why could he not win the heart of a dwarf dam?

Feeling the danger of his surliness come nearer, Thorin shook of his thoughts and focused on the task ahead; winning Canna's love and trust. Last night had shown him that the latter was crucial to gaining the former.

Arriving at her quarters, Thorin rapped loudly on her door and waited. He could hear movements from inside the room, and a few moments later she opened the door, dressed in her usual white tunic and dark breeches.

She seemed surprised to see him, once again, in simple clothing. It had been a purposeful wardrobe change on his part; he wanted her to know the dwarf, not the king.

From the almost imperceptible relaxing of her shoulders, he had made the right choice.

The exotic looking dwarrow was still obviously wary, though.

"Good eve," he began.

"Good eve."

As soon as she spoke, Thorin sensed something was off. Unable to pin down the cause, he extended his arm and said, "Come with me."

They walked together in silence, and only the sound of their heavy footsteps could be heard in the halls. People bowed low as they passed, but Thorin only kept the barest appearances of noticing them. His real attention was on the dwarrow by his side.

Her steps were slow and even, synching with his. She walked with a straight back, almost elegant, but retaining a bit too much strength. But she held her head down, face downcast. This was not the way of the cheeky, confident lass the king had known. Upong closer inspection, her eyes were similarly cast down, and her rosy lips pulled down into a frown. Her entire face screamed dejection. This is what Thorin had felt earlier. She was entirely too subdued.

"Is something wrong?" he forced himself to ask, feeling distinctly uncomfortable doing so. 'Twas not in his nature to inquire after peoples' feelings, especially a dwarf dam's.

Her eyes flew to his, and once again he was caught by their bright, strange coloring.

"No," she said at last, quickly casting her gaze back down. "What makes you ask?"

"Your face," was his blunt reply.

Canna let out a startled laugh, and Thorin felt the tension around them dissipate; not fully, but enough for him to let out the breath he had not realized he held.

To his delight, she was the one to break the silence next. "What do you spend your days doing?"

"My duties. Most of it involves crafting treaties and trade agreements with our neighbors, and overseeing requests and complaints from those who live in the mountain. Only the severest crimes come to me; Balin handles the rest. There is also the rebuilding of Erebor, but we are nearly finished now. Only the finishing touches remain."

"How are relations with the other six kingdoms?"

Here Thorin glanced at her. "I did not know you took an interest in diplomatic affairs."

Canna's head drooped again, her loose braid covering her face from him. "It will be a part of my life now, will it not? Besides, I have always been interested in the affairs of Middle-Earth, to an extent."

The resigned manner in which she spoke irked the king, but he tried his best not to show it. "Since reclaiming Erebor, the other kingdoms have offered much aid to us. They are certainly grateful that our homeland has been reclaimed, but now they are looking to their own interests again." His lip curled in disgust. "It sickens me that even our own kin show such greed."

Canna said nothing, and the walk was quiet.

At last, they arrived at a pair of great, gilded doors. Jewels and intricate carvings decorated it, making it a work of art in itself.

Canna fascinatedly ran her hands over the gold and stone, noting both the gaudiness and the four guards posted alongside the doors.

"What room is this?" she breathed.

Watching her, a pale white form against the gold, Thorin stepped forward and gently took her arm. It tensed, but he did not let go. "Open the doors," he commanded, and the guards stepped forward.

As the doors opened, Canna was blinded by a great light. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust, and when they did she was left speechless.

Gold, as far as her eyes could see, filled the immense hall. She could pick out an assortment of other rare and precious gems as well; it was as if Mahal had dropped all of his own works into this hall. Never had Canna seen such wealth.

Her eyes could not be torn from the display in front of her, but she still felt Thorin's hot breath by her ear.

"Behold," he whispered, "the great wealth, of Erebor."

* * *

This room, this treasure…Thorin loved and hated it.

It was the treasure his grandfather had slaved away to amass. It was the treasure that Thror had come to love more than his own family; his own grandson.

It was the room that had given Thorin and Erebor the ability to rebuild itself; it was the room that had seen Thorin succumb to the dragon sickness.

It was the room that had brought Smaug. It was the room that would pass down great power to his descendants.

It was the room that the owner of his heart was currently gliding through in some sort of spell-like daze.

"Is this a dream?" she said breathily. Her words echoed amidst the cold gold coins.

Thorin followed behind her in silence, observing her fascination in fascination.

At last, Canna turned to him. Her eyes were alight, the awe still evident on her face. She spread her arms wide, as if to encompass all the glorious treasure around her. "How can this possibly be real?" she exclaimed. "I had heard stories of Thror's wealth, but _this_, this is beyond all reality. You could build five–nay, ten–kingdoms with this, and still have plenty to spare!"

Thorin nodded and gave her a small smile, but deep in the recesses of his mind he was disappointed. For some reason, he had expected Canna to be unperturbed by the wealth that had so drawn him and his comrades. He had felt in his heart that she would be different from the rest of them, like Bilbo had been. But seeing the familiar gleam in her eye, he knew he was wrong. She was a dwarf, after all; the love of all things beautiful that came from the earth was in her blood.

He could not help himself from voicing his surprise, albeit more subtly. "Why do you own no riches of your own?"

She regarded him bemusedly. "For one, I do not make the sort of living that lets me own any sort of riches. Any sign of wealth would also make me a target for robbers and souls of ill-repute."

"Did your mother and father leave nothing to you?" Thorin regretted the question as soon as it came out of his mouth, but remained stoic.

Canna's eyes narrowed, but she did not appear angry. "The orcs like shiny things as much as any other creature; what wealth we had in our village was taken by them. Not that we had much to begin with; besides, I had different things on my mind at that point."

_You fool!_ Thorin inwardly berated himself. _Learn to think before you speak!_

The conversation had seemed to bring Canna out of her daze, and she regarded the gold and jewels with a more critical eye.

"How much was here before Erebor's rebuilding?"

"More, but only one who has seen it before we officially reclaimed the mountain would be able to see any difference. Much wealth we have sent to the people of Dale as well."

"Aye, I noticed their growing prosperity when I first came to Erebor."

They walked between the great piles of gold for awhile longer, Canna looking at the treasure, and Thorin looking at Canna.

At last, deeming it an appropriate time, the King asked the question that had driven him to bring her here. "Which mineral is most precious to you?"

This was a serious question to ask any dwarf; every lineage had an affinity for a certain jewel or stone. This powerful draw was passed through bloodlines; all the greatest smiths among dwarves displayed their lines' mineral in their works.

So it was with baited breath that Thorin awaited his betrothed's answer.

Canna looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time all day. Her amber gaze pierced his own; Thorin felt her assessing him.

But then a different emotion passed through her face, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, wringing her pale hands together. In that posture, she suddenly appeared incredibly small, amidst the great mountains of shiny gold.

"I apologize," said Thorin gruffly, looking away from her to conceal his own agitation. "'Tis not the time for me to ask."

He heard Canna sigh and continue walking. After a moment, he followed her.

They walked for a few minutes in tense silence, and then Canna shook her head and sighed again. "It is not here."

"What?"

"My stone. I do not see it here."

"If you tell me what it is, I will find it for you."

The indecision played on her face, and she remained slightly hunched over. This strange behavior of hers bothered the king immensely, but he knew their relationship was too precarious for him to question her.

At last she seemed to come to a decision with slumped shoulders. Thorin clenched his fists at the defeated look on her face; that same resignation he had seen earlier.

Slowly, she undid her braid. Even in his irritated state, Thorin could not help but stare as the long, glossy black locks fanned out behind her. The contrast with her pale face only added to her strange beauty.

Still, despite the tempting display, Thorin was confused as to its purpose. With her long hair hanging around her form, Canna pushed it all over one shoulder before reaching behind with both hands to the base of her neck. She fiddled with her hair, her face showing concentration and slow-building frustration. Thorin pushed aside his own impatience.

Finally, the dwarrow smiled in relief and pulled her fingers through a few strands of her hair before dropping them to her side once more.

In one hand Thorin saw her clenching something; his anticipation grew.

"Well?" he snapped, when she did not move.

Canna glanced up at him sharply, her mouth opened to speak, but then shook her head and sighed. Raising her hand, she slowly unclenched her fingers.

In her palm lay an extraordinarily thin silver chain, and hanging from the chain lay a small, round black stone.

Thorin moved his face closer to the object, and when he realized what she held his eyes shot to Canna's face, only to find her watching him.

"My family has lived by the water for many years; pearls our stone. This is my mother and father's gift to me. Behold a black pearl; the rarest and most precious of all the sea's treasures."

* * *

Thorin stared at the gem in Canna's hand. Amidst all the sparkling stones and gems around them, the black pearl was exotic. It did not glitter like gold or rubies, but rather glowed. Despite its dark hue, it reflected the flickering torchlight. In some ways, it reminded the king of his own Arkenstone.

At that thought, Thorin looked back at Canna's face, only to see her watching her stone. Her eyes were focused on the pearl with an intensity he was familiar with–he had seen it in the eyes of any dwarf that beheld their heart's stone; it was how he knew he looked when staring at the Arkenstone.

"_The rarest and most precious of all the sea's treasures_," she had said.

_It is a stone well suited to her,_ Thorin thought to himself with a smile.

"It is magnificent," he murmured huskily, eyes still on her.

She smiled and nodded. "Aye, that it is."

Thorin cleared his throat. "The Arkenstone."

Canna seemed to reluctantly pull her eyes from the black pearl to look back at him. After processing his words, she nodded in understanding.

"Looking around me, I thought it might be gold."

He shook his head. "Before the Arkenstone was found, Durin's line did have an affinity for gold. I still do, but the Arkenstone holds more…power, over me."

Canna nodded. "Pearls are your gold, and black pearls are the Arkenstone."

"Yes."

Talk of the Arkenstone, and his reaction to it, brought back painful memories to Thorin, and he grunted. "Let us leave."

Clenching her fingers around her stone, Canna joined him, and they both strolled past the mountainous piles of gold and rubies and amethysts and diamonds and all other precious stones. As soon as they were out, Thorin heaved a sigh of relief, and was surprised to hear Canna do so too.

When she saw his questioning look, she shrugged. "Only now that we are out have I noticed, but there was a faint stench in there. I feel as if some fog has passed from my mind."

Thorin froze at her words.

Canna looked at him with a piercing gaze. "'Tis the dragon stench, is it not?" His silence was her answer.

They continued walking at a slow pace. "Having felt just a hint of it, I now understand the stories better."

"What stories?" Thorin knew his voice was rough, but could not bring himself to care.

"Stories of your dragon sickness. The tales are rampant throughout the mountain–nay, throughout Middle-earth! As you well know. Of course, none of the dwarven tales forget to mention how you overcame it."

The king did not fail to note that she had been quick to end on a lighter note, so as to spare him pain. A day ago, he knew she would not have been so forgiving. This knowledge melted any ire he would have felt, and he even graced her with a small smile. Unfortunately, his action caused her eyes to widen before sadness crept into her features, and once more her head hung low in dejection.

Thorin wanted to shake her. _What is wrong? Where is that dwarrow I love?_

If only he knew.

* * *

**Longest chapter yet! Thank you all for being so patient.**

**Please tell me what you think of these developments! It was not a fast-paced chapter, but that's because Canna's relationship with Thorin is very awkward right now. What do you think of them both? **

**P.S. Some of the details in this chapter will come back later.**


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